


Concrete Jungle Gym

by TheLostAbstract



Category: Guns N' Roses, Hollywood Rose (band), L.A. Guns, London (band)
Genre: Crossover, Early GNR, M/M, Multi, Pre GNR
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 04:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 104,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7561267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLostAbstract/pseuds/TheLostAbstract
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fine go! No, I mean it. Nobody wants you here, least of all me, so get the fuck out of my life!”</p><p>Rewritten as of March 8, 2018. Now includes more Tracii, Chris, London and other secondary characters. I'm planning to also tighten up the plot line. Stay tuned - thank you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the Jungle

**Author's Note:**

> I figured I should make a home for this story here too. Enjoy and leave kudos or a comment to let me know. Ta!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fine go! No, I mean it. Nobody wants you here, least of all me, so get the fuck out of my life!”

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Steven scrunched his eyes before opening them. Squinting against the glaring sun, he saw a concerned face staring back at him. He cocked his head curiously at the sincerity in the deep brown eyes. A soft Afro of curls dangled over the other boy’s eyes. The other boy tucked a couple of strands behind his ear and continued to look at him.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” The boy asked and held up three fingers.

Steven frowned as he tried to concentrate on the fingers weaving in a circle before his eyes. He wondered why were starting to multiply. Reaching out, he missed the other’s wrist and grabbed hold of the fingers. They stopped their sickening dance, but now Steven couldn’t see them at all and he got more confused.

“Shit. Dude, we need to get you to a hospital,” the other boy said, placing a hand on Steven’s wrist.

“Naw. I’m okay, man. I can’t count,” Steven joked and tried to sit up. The darker skinned boy scooted closer to him and put an arm around his shoulders to steady him. Steven hummed in appreciation and let his head fall against the others chest.

“Uh, you sure you’re okay?” The boy asked.

“Yeah. Hey. Did you see where my uh, uh, thingy went to?”

“Your skateboard? Yeah, it’s just over there.”

“Thanks,” Steven replied and proceeded to crawl toward it. He brought it into his lap and looked it over. It was in one piece, just a bit scuffed. His head was clearing and he was feeling more relaxed despite the anxious boy hovering uncertainly nearby. A wide toothy smile spread over his face and he extended his hand. “I’m Steven. What’s your name?”

“Oh, uh, Saul,” he took Steven’s hand to shake it, “but you can call me Slash.”

“Slash! Nice to meet you. Thanks for helping me out. Do you play an instrument?”

“Uh, not really.”

“I got this awesome guitar and a start up drum kit. Want to come to my house and jam on them?”

“Okay,” Slash replied shyly.

“Cool!” Steven exclaimed and jumped to his feet. He righted the skateboard and said, “my place isn’t too far, but we can be as loud as we want. My grandma’s out doing shopping or something.”

Slash followed steadily on his bike. The idea of cranking out a bone crushing rhythm on the drums like Joey Kramer definitely sounded appealing. He’d never gotten to play any instrument before. One thing was for sure, he was very happy his parents had moved them here. He was even gladder that he had been biking through the overgrown terrain and noticed this playground. Because once the new found friends were at Steven’s house and the guitar was passed to him, Slash felt something stirring in the core of his soul as if he’d finally been born into what he really was.

**…**

“He smoke cigarettes like a fucking forties gangsta. He’s not too much taller than me, but he’s tall! He has dark hair that he’s starting to dye blue which I’m _totally_ getting on board with! Oh! And he…”

“Tracii. Tracii. Calm down, man. You’re making my head spin,” Chris said calmly.

“I can’t help it! He’s fucking damn near perfect. He even plays drums! We’re going to jam tonight. It’s going to be fucking tight!”

“I think it’s cute,”

“Dana, don’t encourage him,” Chris reprimanded, draping an arm around her shoulders and leaning his head against hers.

She returned the embrace, but addressed Tracii, “So when do we get to meet him? I want to make sure he’s good enough for our little Tracii.”

Tracii grinned sheepishly and mumbled, “I really hope you like him. He’s just so cool and I’ve never met someone like him before. He’s got this Midwest vibe so he has none of the L.A. bullshit yet… Hey, Chris!” Tracii was back to shouting. “We should totally start a band with him! He’ll play drums. I’ll play guitar. You’ll play bass and then we just need a singer.”

“Whoa. When did I get demoted to bass player? I’m a guitarist. Bassists never get any.”

“What are you talking about?” Dana asked with arched brows. “You’re with me and I happen to find bass players hot as fucking shit!”

“Yeah right, babe,” Chris said. “You’d ditch me in a heart beat. No one knows a single thing about bass players because they’re dumb fucks.”

“No way! They have the best rhythm and they’re not as impatient as drummers when it comes to fucking. And!” She covered Chris’s mouth to silence his rebuttal. “If Tom Hamilton was here I’d give him a go and wouldn’t think twice about it.”

“You just like blondes,” Tracii teased, taking a sip of his Coke.

“Even _you_ wouldn’t say no to Tom when he wore that all white suit. He was so fucking hot,” Dana retorted, licking her lips suggestively. She frowned suddenly. “Heh, maybe you’re right. Maybe I do just like blondes. Is that why we didn’t work out Trace?”

“Dana!” Chris grumbled.

“Aw, babe.” She cupped his jaw in her hand. “You know I love only you.” Placing a leg in his lap, she arched over him to kiss him deeply. He supported her back as he allowed her to explore his mouth, returning the sensual caress. Pulling back, she smiled down at his hazy eyes. Laughing softly as Tracii whooped in encouragement. “Besides, Tracii’s fifty percent is nearing seventy percent, so how’s a girl supposed to keep up with that appetite?”

Chris scoffed and playfully shoved her off of him. Tracii slapped his shoulder in reprimand, but smiled as his two friends who were only goofing off themselves.

“Hey, Saul!” Tracii yelled, waiving an arm enthusiastically as another group came into the Canter’s Deli.

“Tracii,” the curly haired youth smiled as he headed over to their table. “I told you to call me Slash.”

“Can’t help it, Saulie. It’s a good Jewish name. What would my Nana think if I didn’t abuse you with it?” Tracii teased. Slash smiled.

“Since when are you a good anything, slut?” Steven asked.

“Sicne I did your girlfriend,” he fired back and turned to the blonde on Steven’s arm. “What’s up, Adrianna?”

“Hi Tracii,” the girl responded with a faint blush.

“No!” Steven yelled, looking between the two. “No. No. No. You two didn’t. Adi, for real? You let him fuck you?”

“Steven, chill babe. It was a long time ago and it was just a quickie hand job.”

“I’m not listening. I’m not listening!” Steven chanted as he covered his ears. He walked away still muttering to himself.

“Sometimes I think I’m dating a toddler,” Adrianna grumbled and went to fetch him.

“Hey, guys, can you keep it down?” Marc asked as he set the food down in front of Tracii and his gang. “I know we’re slow, but my dad’s not feeling well so the quieter the better for him.”

“Sorry, man. We will,” Tracii promised enthusiastically as he grabbed the ketchup bottle and proceeded to form a red mountain on top of his fries.

“Yeah sorry, Marc,” Slash said.

Marc nodded and turned to Slash. “The usual, man?”

“No flow,” Slash commented as he patted his pockets.

“That’s because his band isn’t getting any gigs,” Tracii piped up impulsively. Gesturing with a fry, he said, “Now I can afford a burger, because my band Paphyrus scored _two_ gigs this week. We’re in fucking high demand!”

“And he’s got a new scorching hot boyfriend,” Chris announced almost bored.

“I don’t know why, but I actually want to hear about this,” Marc said, tucking the serving tray under his arm.

“I think he’s been in hear once or twice.” Tracii pointed. “Sits in that corner. Only orders black coffee. Stiffs you on the bill, but always doubles back on his tracks to pay it right, Marc?”

“ _That_ guy! You’re dating him? He’s fucking gay?” Marc exclaimed a little too loudly. A shout from the kitchen made everyone bristle and smile embarrassed.

“Yeah. Why’s every one so shocked I got the fucking hottest thing to come out of the Midwest?”

Adriana clapped her hand over Steven’s mouth and said, “No, Steven. I’m not in the mood. And if you want any later, you’re going to be polite at least until he leaves.”

Steven frowned and shoved her hand off. “No! AI’m going to be however I fucking want! I’m just sick of how this guy never shuts up about anything. I’m hungry! I don’t want listen to anymore sex talk.”

“Marc? Can we get a chocolate milkshake?” Adriana asked before following him to the booth.

Marc nodded, watching as she cradled him in the booth. He wondered vaguely if Tracii ever soothed any of his boy friends. Granted, he also wondered how serious he was about them or just how much he really did. Tracii was an odd hyper kid and sometimes his mouth got him in trouble or he’d get caught up in a lie. The lies were usually harmless, but he wondered if one day they’d be damaging. Marc though could feel that something was happening in the world right here in L.A. He glanced at Slash who didn’t move but continued to stare as Tracii lapsed into another quick discussion about his relationship. The curly haired boy looked uncomfortable. He chewed his lip and shuffled on his feet slightly. Marc frowned wondering why the unease only broke when Tracii switched to talking about gigs and bands.

“My parents are out for the week, so you both are welcome to stay with me,” Chris announced. “The house is always so fucking big when they aren’t around even though it’s sweet not having the ‘rents around.”

“Yeah! We can work on a band!” Tracii announced through a mouthful of food. “And you can meet Izzy. I’m telling you, he’s a fucking beast and a sharp guy. The way he dresses, the way he plays. He’s got the ear man. He…”

“Slash, are you okay?” Marc asked, silencing Tracii.

Slashes glanced at Marc in surprise as if he’d just seen him then back at the others. His eyes lingered the longest on Tracii who leaned forward and cocked his head. He tried to smile encouragingly, but Slash hid behind his growing Afro. He frowned slightly when Slash didn’t return it.

“You okay, buddy?” Tracii asked.

“I’m fine,” Slash mumbled. “Good seeing you, Trace.”

Tracii watched Slash walk to the other table. He knew things weren’t okay. It wasn’t just the normal jealousy that arose between the two guitarists on whose band was better. No. This went deeper than that amateur feud.

…

“Fine go! No, I mean it. Nobody wants you here, least of all me, so get the fuck out of my life!”

“It doesn’t have to be this way. You can come with me. We can go together.” The voice was a mild reproach.

“No!” Will shoved Jeff against the wall with a dull thud. “Not when you’re taking that slut with you. It’s always about you. You never fucking cared about me, you only cared about yourself. Now just take your fucking whore, and your fucking diploma, and get the fuck out of my life. I never want to see you again.”

A hard hand fell across Jeffrey’s face leaving a red mark on his cheek, branding him with the pain and desire from the last few years. Jeffrey slumped against the wall hand touching his cheek almost tenderly despite the searing rush of heat. Turning his back to the wounded boy, William clutched his shoulders. He could feel himself already withdrawing back into himself. The darkness was pulling the veil over his heart and eyes once again. Yet, he couldn’t understand what was happening to him. All he knew was this was how he could escape without doing something drastic. Closing himself off from the world and the pain that hovered from the one human he wanted to love. He stared determinedly at the wall, willing the other boy to leave with every fiber of his being.

“Will, please come with me. We can start something great… together.” Jeff stepped forward determined to touch his friend again, fingers twitching in anticipatory desire. William’s body jumped before going as rigid as a statue. A warning hiss passed between his poison cherry lips.

“Don’t even fucking touch me, Jeffrey.” The voice was a low fatally demonic pitch. “Because I can’t be held responsible for what I’ll do to you.”

Jeffrey sighed exasperatedly, shoulders rolling back as his hand recoiled. His dark eyes burned into the back of William’s skull. He knew the red head could feel it. He knew he still had at least a feeble connection to one or two of William’s heart strings, but so many of them had already been cut and thrown to the careless wind. Broken by a town that didn’t let them fully understand what they meant to each other, a town that fought to suppress any expression of feeling that they desired to show each other. Attempts had been made, but they had all ended in disaster. Feelings had been repressed and limbs had been broken along with their hearts.

“Just go,” William hissed, but Jeffrey noticed the tone falter.

Still, he heeded the wishes of the other boy and silently stalked to the door. His body formed a long black silhouette against the reflected full moon as he paused in the door frame. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his shadow extended to William. The shadow from his raised arm looked like prison bars draping over William’s back. Yet his full body silhouette made the prison look less scary and more like and endearing embrace. Jeffrey bit back a smile when he noticed William scratch his bicep. He knew the red head could feel his gaze on his body. He just wasn’t sure anymore if William could feel the passion that was in his line of sight. He knew William wanted to feel it and experience it, but this was not the time. _Time is the silliest of mankind’s concepts,_ Jeffrey reasoned.

“I’ll see you again, William.” His voice was a firm promise that dripped with temptation and sin. Yet a warm rush thundered through William’s veins as he heard that rich voice slide over the syllables of his name. “You can count on that.”

William turned in time to see the door slam closed. Walking cautiously to the door, he peered out. Through the finely woven screen he searched the midnight landscape for Jeff, but the drifting shade had long since disappeared. Shaking his head, William closed the glass door and locked it to bar himself from the outside world and securing his presence in his own.

His body swayed slowly as he fell against the door frame. Sadness and anger churned in his belly. Unsure of which would be the victor, his breath hitched. Jeffrey was no longer his. He belonged to the dense unexplored virgin night of Indiana. Where Jeff would go, William had no idea. Yet, he had taken a part of him with him, whether William liked it or not.

…

Breaks groaned as the bus approached the turn-off from the freeway. It gave a hard lurch forward and the overtaxed engine spluttered slightly. The driver’s foot eased off the break trying to alleviate the jerky motion. The combustion of the engine jostled the sleeping red head awake, shattering his dream, or nightmare, and pitching him straight into the back of the seat in front of him.

He clutched his nose as he rolled to his side. A lock of his shoulder length hair had fallen from his cap and slapped him in the face. Quickly tucking it back under his cap as another memory pricked at his memories. This one was a more recent occurrence at a truck stop some miles back. The experience still made him shudder in distress. The one from his dream just continued to try and consume him.

Clenching his eyes tightly, he checked his nose and rose to his knees. He squinted his eyes against the harsh fluorescent light as he pressed his face against the base of the bus window. Placing a hand over his eyes like a salute. He saw the Hollywood sign and more American icons of civilization rather than wheat fields and deserts. His eyes darted to and fro across the streets, expecting to see celebrities on every corner basking in the glitz and glamor of California. He looked for the rolling streets of gold and the rush of excitement like the river back home.

Yet he was met with the forbidden darkness of an unexplored jungle. The paradise he had watched play out on TV when he was in town at the local electronics shop seemed to be a mirage or the bus driver had a horrible sense of direction. He scanned the hazy streets for signs of the luxurious golden party life, but seeing nothing except a few figments and shells of human life forms. Most looked like shriveled corpses huddled around a trashcan fire. Others were strung out and shaking uncontrollably. He sat back puzzled and glanced down at his watch. It was around four in the morning. _That must be why no one’s out_ , he reasoned, still holding on hope.

The bus screeched to a halt with a terrible groan. He caught himself on the back of the seat, sparing his nose. He heard the doors shudder as they creaked opened. The reverberations caught the boy off guard and sent him forward onto his face again. This time he twisted his body and landed less violently on the space between the seats. Something still hurt. He groaned and rubbed the hip he had landed on. Already he was getting beat up after being miles away from the playground bullies. Like so many times before, he ventured to climb his way out, but the bus pitched forward and climbed in speed. He lost his hold on the seat and fel back to the floor.

A memory of being shoved to the ground flashed through his mind. Cops stood above him, hurling insults as they dug their heels into his spine. Grabbing him by the hair they shoved his face into the mud. He coughed and spluttered as he twisted to find air. He could hear faint snips beside his ear and the order to hold still. His hair was shorter. Before his body could start to shake a heavy guitar case clanked to the floor with a thud. Music. One of his two saviors.

“Shit!” A worried and tired sounding voice cursed softly. A mop of blue hair followed by a long arm came into the boy’s vision followed by a figure that bent forward to retrieve the case. Soft hazel eyes locked on to his. “Oh, hi. I didn’t think anyone was on here.” He grinned wide and friendly. “Need a hand?”

The long arm, decorated with a black wrist cuff and small metal chains, extended to the smaller red head. The boy accepted it. He hid his slight resentment as the other hoisted him effortlessly into the air. He sat back onto the worn leather seat, tucking his legs underneath him. He pulled his hair in front of his face, but still peeked at the other boy. He was a curiosity if nothing else to the sheltered backwoods kid. This boy was a giant, yet seemed to be gentle and caring. His hair was mostly blue with spikes of red. It was shaggy enough to be edgy, but still short. He embodied punk with his Sid Vicious pout, yet his eyes welcomed him instantly. If the red headed boy looked long enough, he was sure he was going to get sucked in to telling him his life story and anything else this giant wanted to know.

“Just moved here?” The punk asked, pointing to the large rattlesnake suitcase by the window.

“Yeah.” The red head replied and was immediately nervous that he had spoken aloud. That rarely happened when he was around new people. Quickly, he turned and clenched his jaw.

“Cool,” said the other with a happy smile. He propped his guitar case in the adjacent seat and leaned against it like a buddy. He wore long torn up jeans and a tight black shirt that was frayed at the collar and sleeves with Sex Pistols spray painted across the chest. It clung to his slim torso. Around his neck lay a silver padlock on what looked to be an old bike chain. He placed a large booted foot against the side of the red head’s seat as he stretched his other leg out to its full length. His scuffed boot disappeared under the opposite seat. “I’ve been here about two months. Not a bad place once you get to know where shit is.”

The red head stared out the window.

“Where ya living? Got family here?”

“What’s it to you?” The red head snapped.

The other looked wounded, but shrugged it off. “Just asking. I didn’t know anyone when I moved here, but I wanted to get away from the drug scene back home, you know?” He leaned forward. “Nice necklace.”

The red head glared as he enveloped the religious charm in the palm of his hand. Yet, he didn’t get the feeling the guy wanted to steal it from him.

“I’m looking for a new roommate.” The punk folded his arms behind his head. “The one I had is heading to New York. Dunno why, but if you need a place to stay the rent’s dirt cheap.”

“I’ll be fine.” The red head hissed.

“Okay.” The punk bit his lip finally seeing he’d made the other even more upset and he wasn’t getting anywhere with him. He turned his body around and threw his feet up on the seat in front of him. His chest doubled over at an odd angle. A soft moan escaped his throat as his vertebrae stretched pleasantly into the luxurious curled angle. It eased the tension from the night’s work.

The red head continued to stare out the window, watching as the acidic neon lights slowly went out as the hours ticked by. Glancing back at the weird alien punk, he found him to have fallen asleep. He had to admit the kid had a sweet face. His head was now tucked into his chest with his eyes closed. His mouth hung open a bit and there was the smallest drip of drool forming at the corner of his lips. Faint exhales could be heard over the groaning bus engine. The red head had to smile a little. He almost wanted to trust the guy. The punk had a familial aspect to him that the red head liked, but he wasn’t of a trusting nature. Especially when he was in a new city far away from his hometown.

A smirking wraith beckoned his eyes toward the window. A slender man in a long trench coat grinned wickedly in the dark. He seemed to keep pace with the bus as he traversed the steaming pavement. A single orange flame burned at his mouth, lighting the way like a lantern. Every so often, he cackled silently, eliciting even more feelings within the red head’s chest and making his heart race. His boots trampled out his path without a care in the world.

Spying the gawking red head, the man in the trench coat shot him a laconic sneer that sent a paralyzing stake through the red head’s body. Yet, it filled him with another emotion he hadn’t felt for the last year. The red head forgot how to breathe as his limbs fell numb and hesitant. The sensations remained as the black-coated specter was finally swallowed up into the untamed darkness.

“Hey, boy, ain’t this where ya getin’ off?” The bus driver yelled. He only succeeded in rousing the punk. The red head was still lost to the clouds. The punk leaned over and softly tapped the red head’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” the punk apologized, and jerked a thumb in the driver’s direction. “Think he’s talking to you, man.”

“This where you wanna ge’ off, innit?”

The red head mumbled thanks as he grabbed his suitcase.

“I live over on Orchid, building 9 if you ever want to hang out sometime or need a place to crash. Just ask for Michale or Duff. I forgot which name I gave.” The punk reminded him with a parting smile.

The red head didn’t respond, but stepped off the bus. Holding his suitcase tightly, he strolled down the Strip unsure of where he was going. The pavement wound in and out of the dim orange streetlight. In the distance, he saw a Victorian style house that seemed out of place on the neon Strip. It’s decrepit facade looked enticingly foreboding, and black curtains hung in the odd street level windows. He swore he could see the thinnest flickers of light above the swirling fabric.

A flash of red light shot out from the doorway as a skinny blonde stumbled out. Blonde fluffy hair on the skinny frame, made the boy wonder if it was girl or boy. The person’s pants were half off and he bent down to pick up what he guessed was money. The person swayed slightly and sat down. A sharp cry of pain followed and the person quickly crawled onto his hand and knees. It crawled some distance before picking itself up and limping away from the cold black house. The boy shuddered at the eerie feeling he got from the shaky youth and house, and turned to go the opposite way despite this road looking even more gnarled and twisted than the other direction.

…

“Izzy from Indiana,” a voice muttered. “Took you fucking ages to get here.”

“Give me that lip again and you’ll need to find a new dealer,” Izzy

“Hey, man. Can you cut me a deal, man? The landlord, man. He’s been on my ass about my rent due. I don’t even have money for food,” the jumpy guy said.

“Not my problem,” Izzy replied, never taking his hands out of his pockets.

“Come on, man. I need to eat. I’m your best customer.”

“Look around here, baby. This whole Strip is my best customer,” Izzy replied, taking the cigarette out of his mouth as he gestured. “You either want this shit or you don’t. I don’t have time to hang around here with you.”

The guy muttered several curses as he fished the dollar bills out of his pocket. He handed them to Izzy who in turn pulled a dime bag from his pocket. Clasping their hands, Izzy grabbed him with his other hand and yanked him into his chest. He removed one hand from the man’s and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. “You better not be stiffing me, asshole.”

“I’m not. I’m not. I fucking swear,” the guy panted. He was starting to sweat now from his withdrawal and his desperate need.

With a violent shove, Izzy pushed him away. “See you later, baby.” He pivoted and continued down the street. He knew the guy never stiffed him out of money, but it was good to get a little fear in his clients, especially when they were tweaked. Pocketing the money in a secure pocket, he spied a young red head stepping off the Gray Hound. He felt himself get hard as the sight of the wisps of red hair that tumbled out from his cap. The boy put his suitcase down and tucked his hair beneath his cap. Izzy wondered how long it was. He liked long hair. He liked a lot of things about this guy in general. Figuring he should get acquainted with the new flesh, he made a beeline for him.

…

The punk’s thoughts were still on the red head. He seemed rather innocent. His brother instincts were being sent into overdrive and he was finding himself worrying about the kid already. The bus shifted into gear and the red head was reduced to nothing but a blur that faded into the caution orange light.

…

Tracii flicked his cigarette lit, avoiding Slash for a minute. The curly haired kid sucked on his lips and tried to avoid looking at Tracii, but the way in which the cigarette dangled straight from his mouth was hard to avoid. For some reason it turned Slash on more than when he first picked up a guitar. Tracii pocketed his lighter and raised his head, exhaling a puff of smoke from the corners of his mouth as he did so. Taking the smoke in his hand, he cocked his wrist and turned to stare at Slash who quickly looked away.

“So how long?” Tracii asked plainly.

“What?” Slash spluttered.

“How long did you know you were gay, or at least fancied dick?”

Slash hid behind his not quite long enough hair.

“Dude, it’s cool. It’s me,” Tracii said gently, lightly puching him on the shoulder. “You know.” Tracii put the smoke back in his mouth. “This is the way he smokes his cigarette. Then he’s got this fucking hot pout like a mafia hit man.” Slash started to walk away, but stopped dead when Tracii gasped, “You want him, don’t you?”

“I, uh, no. I. It’s just that…” Slash tried to walk away again, but Tracii caught his arm.

“It’s because he reminds you of Keith Richards? And you can’t fuck me because it’s like fucking your brother?”

Slash scrunched his face, but nodded.

“It’s cool, man. I told you I had the hottest thing to have yet come out of the fucking Midwest. Have you done anything with anyone?”

Slash shook his head.

“Are you curious about stuff.”

Slash nodded.

“Okay. Come by Chris’s place sometime and we’ll talk in private. No judgements. But don’t bring Steven as much as he may want to come for the free booze, okay?”

Slash nodded and mumbled a small thanks.

“Don’t mention it, but Saul remember one thing, okay?” Tracii dropped his voice as he leaned in. “He’s mine and only mine.” Instantly evil Tracii disappeared and the smiling one was back. “See ya later!”

Slash stared after him as Tracii effortlessly shifted into the wilds of L.A. that Slash wasn’t quite ready to venture into.

…

 

“Hey, mama.” A warm, collected voice cooed. The man he had seen outside the bus window stood right in front of him. He was slightly taller than him with his dark hair slicked back. Dark hooded eyes that seemed capable of sucking out your soul were locked onto him. An easy, taunting smile slipped onto his face as long white fingers beckoned him forward.

“I’m a guy, dickhead!” Axl roared. The shady fiend chuckled thickly.

“Don’t make much difference to me. Mama. I’ve got some good stuff.” His hands moved from his pockets to inside his long leather coat. “I can cut you a deal. New customer special.”

“What?” The boy asked naively, curiosity peeked. He leaned forward to see what the hell-spawned man was offering him. A small plastic bag filled with white powder flashed into his field of vision. The red head jerked back shocked. “Um, no. No thanks, man.”

“Come on, mama. It’s pure you can trust me.” The man laid a hand on his shoulder gently tugging him backwards. The red head stumbled as he tried to wiggle free.

“I don’t do drugs. I don’t want any.”

“That’s not all I sell, honey,” The man hissed, clasping the smaller boy’s faded plaid shirt pulling him closer. “Just name what you need and I can find it for you.”

“I said, I’m fine,” the red head yelled, trying to shove the man off him. His suitcase fell to the pavement as his cap went flying, freeing his long red hair in the wind. The darkness seemed to swallow his plea. The man smiled.

“Hey!” A strong voice cut through the obscure midnight as a hand wrenched the two apart, knocking them both to the cold concrete. The tall lanky blue haired punk from the bus stood in front of the red head, shielding him from the man in the black trench coat. “He said he’s _not_ interested.” His voice was a low growl and his eyes were narrow. He kicked the smaller man in the side. “Now get the hell out of here!”

“All right, calm down there, man.” The man slithered to his feet, giving a nonchalant smile as if he were parting ways with good friends. He looked past the menacing blue haired boy and spoke directly to the red head, “I’ll find you again. You’ve just got to the jungle, you’re gonna die.” With a cruel snicker, the skeletal shade passed through the lurid gates into the condemned abyss of L.A. streets.

“You okay?” The taller boy turned, extending the same long decorated arm to the red head. He took it less begrudgingly this time. His foot tangled with the other causing him to fall forward into the taller. “Whoops.” The red head bolted from the other’s touch. The other just smiled broadly.

“Sorry,” The boy mumbled, putting more distance between them.

Warm hazel eyes twinkled at the red head, cocking his head. “You didn’t do anything.” He looked down at the pavement. “Oh, let me help you.” Immediately he dropped to his knees and began gathering up the scattered clothes that had been spilt. The boy made a grab for a shirt the taller boy held.

“You don’t have to,” The boy said defensively.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay. I don’t use or deal.”

“You don’t?” The boy exclaimed. The other just smiled genuinely without any hint of reprimand.

“Nope. I’m clean.” He informed the red head as he latched the suitcase shut. “Oh.” He crawled over to the gutter and bent down to fish something out. He held up a long thin gold chain. A tiny cross dangled at the end of the chain with a small sculpture of Jesus. “This is yours too, isn’t it?”

The boy’s hand went to his throat searching. All he found was naked skin. He stiffened as he watched the other’s fingers curl around the thin strand of gold.

“That’s mine.” He gasped his hand still at his throat. The punk beamed.

“Good!” He placed it in the red head’s outstretched palm. “I’m glad you didn’t lose it.”

“You…you’re…are you…religious?”

“Mm.” The punk stuck out his lower lip almost pouting as he thought. “Well, I was raised Catholic although I haven’t been to church that much lately. I do have a tremendous respect for anyone of any faith.”

“Thanks,” the red head said for more reasons than one. The other nodded, helping the red head to his feet picking up his suitcase.

“Well, I guess good luck to you, whoever you are.” He turned and began strolling down the street guitar case in hand.

“Wait.” The red head called after him. The other turned, curiously. The red head froze. “I, uh, well is that offer for a place still open?”

“Of course!” He smiled wide. Running back to the smaller boy, he looped a long arm around his shoulders and tugged him along. The boy stiffened. “Oh, sorry.” He slid his arm off and extended his right hand. “I’m Duff McKagan.”

“Bill.”

Duff smiled. “Feel like a beer?”

“Yeah, beer would be good,” said Bill, trying to sound smooth. His voice cracked, but Duff was nice enough not to point it out. Instead, he smiled.

“Great! I could suck down at least a six-pack. I’m a thirsty motherfucker.”

“Duff the fucking king of beers!”

“Ha! I like it.” Duff laughed and linked his arm with Axl’s dragging him along.

“Wait until I tell me parents,” Duff said with a laugh. “My birth name is Michael, but not even my own family calls me that!”

 

…

 

Slash lazed in front of the electronics store. It was closed and the TV’s had long since been turned off and faded to black. All that remained on the barren shells were passing reflections of a dying night. One leg was drawn into his chest, as the other lay sprawled in front of him. Raising a crinkled brown paper bag, he slurped loudly watching the wind casually blow through the barren hollow streets.

“You look like a fucking blind beggar.” A sarcastic drawl informed him. A black shadow draped in a long trench coat glided toward him stealthily. Slash jumped, thinking a black apparition was floating towards him. The thick boots of the figure somehow found the ground and his old drug buddy appeared before his eyes. He smiled, fading back into his happily drunk state again.

“Got a dollar?” Slash asked in a crotchety old man’s voice. He grinned like a sheepish fool before downing more of the paper bag.

“And an unsuccessful beggar at that. Wonderful.” The leather-coated man seized the bottle taking a deep swig despite the protests of the drunk. “Damn it, can’t you for once buy something other than Jack?” His voice was only mildly perturbed. The man wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Slash snatched the bottle back like an upset child and cradled it back into its proper place between his thighs.

“If you don’t like it don’t drink, Izz.” Slash retorted, holding up a long cigarette. “Got a light?”

Izzy grumbled and fished in his pocket he drew out a small cylinder flicking it to life. He let Slash puff a few times then snapped it shut with a sharp click, spooking the curly haired youth slightly.

“Upset that red head gave you some trouble?”

“You mean you actually moved from this spot tonight?” Izzy teased.

“I was in the neighborhood trick or treating,” Slash said with a shrug. He peered up from behind his shades with mischievous eyes. “You like him don’t you.”

“Reminds me of someone I met before,” Izzy said, dismissing the question. “Is Steven enough for you or are you looking for someone who will actually put out?”

“Life’s too short not to have more butt buddies.”

“Well fire head has a little blue haired protector you’d probably like. He’s got this sweet innocent angel face, spiky hair, but he doesn’t look like those drag queens from Poison. And he has nice long legs to wrap around you.”

“So really you just want the red head.” Slash laughed, scratching his chin. “Think he’s a natural?”

“Only one way to find out.” Izzy smirked.

“You always did go for the hick type.”

“Keeping track?”

“I’ve noticed from time to time,” Slash replied.

“You need to stop noticing me. I’m not free,” Izzy stated.

Slash chewed his lip to quell his anxiety and hide his embarrassment. It wasn’t a secret to anyone he’d been checking out Izzy since Tracii and him started dating. Izzy had made it clear from the start he wasn’t in to Slash that way, but was okay with friends. Though their friendships waxed and waned. “Steven said he’s going to get a lot of business tonight. Not sure what he’s up to though.”

“At least one of us is. We need a band. We need gigs.”

“We need drugs too!” Slash chewed the inside of his cheek.

“Which means we need money, I think I might have an idea,” Izzy said, flicking his own cigarette into the receding shadows that licked at his heels. “But we need a few more people and need to go shopping for a few large items.”

“I’m in!” Slash trumpeted in a drunken singsong voice as he raised his hand like an enthusiastic student. He paused clutching his head. “Hmmm, but can we do it tomorrow?”

“It is tomorrow,” Izzy stated, nodding to the thin line of yellow ocher peering between the alleys of the concrete jungle gym. The dark shadows crawled away giving way to eerie blue and tinted white light. Rats sniffed at the fresh morning air laced with dew. In fright they scurried back to the safety of their overcast gutters. With the roaches, they retreated back into the hollow L.A. underground from where they had crawled.

…

**Introduce Tracii – 6yr old story and Johnny Thunders poster**

Tracii’s finger flew over the strings. His face contorted into various expressions as he felt the instrument come alive beneath him. His touch was freeing the guitar’s soul, coaxing out the life force that was buried deep within the hard wooden body. It was glorious to hear it’s beautiful wail and piercing riffs. It spoke to Tracii and Tracii spoke to it. He wasn’t on a stage or in an arena. He was straying into the middle of oblivion where only his spirit and the guitar’s existed, interweaving with each others and ascending to Nirvana on high.

“Tracii!!” A voice shouted over his impromptu solo, but the hand of the bass player clamping down over his guitar neck was what really ended his playing. “We don’t need you to do a solo mid song. We need you to play the song as is!”

Tracii nodded, slightly embarrassed by being reprimanded. A buddy of his had gotten him a steady gig as a session musician. He secretly worried that he fucked it up, but the producer seemed at ease again. A couple of the band members rolled their eyes, but other than that they went back to work. He smiled as he heard the last of the D chord fade from his guitar. It instantly transported him back to when he was a kid buzzing around his cousin’s room. Poor dude was just trying to study and here was this crazy half-naked wild boy running around on a natural sugar high.

The guitarist sat down on a stool as they geared up for the next song. It was a slower number. Why that meant they had to sit, Tracii didn’t know, but only when he had a guitar in his hands would he sit still. Otherwise he would still buzz around the room like his old six-year-old self. He remembered how relived his cousin was that he was so engrossed in playing that same D chord for hours. It pissed him off when he found out there were more and promptly marched back to his cousin’s to find out the other chords and try to steal his guitar. He was only successful with one of those plans.

Playing, even if it wasn’t his original stuff, felt good. And now he had the unfortunate weight of knowing the session was over and a dismal Sunday night had come again. Tomorrow morning, he would be shooed off to school. Back to routine and schedule. Two things that Tracii never adhered to very well. Not to mention most of the subjects were a drag for him. Luckily he could skate by with minimal effort.

His thoughts instantly went back to guitars and guitarists as his eyes fell onto his Johnny thunders poster. He loved Johnny’s playing, but also loved Johnny. The stringy puff of black hair. His hooded eyes and sharp facial features. The way he saw Thunders handle a guitar. The way his fingers moved over the frets, Tracii studied them, memorizing their movements and cadence as he found the song’s riff.

Tracii’s hand began to move under the covers as he thought about those hands. He closed his eyes and he saw those deep-set eyes boring into him. He parted his lips and imagined the whispered press of thin pink lips on the side of his mouth. His free hand fisted in his hair as his hips rose and fell with his own natural rhythm. The steady pump, the hard drives, the rock and roll of everything Thunders was and everything he wanted to be was coursing through his veins as he thought about his dream man. He came with a muffled scream into his own wrist in the wee hours of a fading Sunday night.

…


	2. Anything Goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is the jungle, mama, you’re gonna die!”

“Damn it, Tracii!” Chris yelled.

“What? What?” Tracii spluttered as he took his head set off.

“You’re lapsing into Jimmy Page again. I love Led Zep too, man, but we agreed to find our new sound. I didn’t agree to start playing bass so you could rehash your guitar god over and over with this 70’s shit. It’s not the sound.”

“But how can you not love Jimmy, man? He’s a classic.”

“It just doesn’t sound right,” Chris said as he leaned back in the couch. His hand idly searched out a cigarette. “I don’t know what it is, but that’s not it.”

“Whatever,” Tracii shrugged. “Can I use your mom’s violin bow?”

“No,” Chris said. Raising his pack of cigarettes to his mouth, he paused just before his lips could close around one. “But you can go in the kitchen and get something you will enjoy out of the _spice_ rack.”

“Fucking hell yes!” Tracii exclaimed and took off for the kitchen. He buzzed around the room, opening and slamming doors in search of the spices. Finally discovering them, he grabbed a hold of a medium sized plastic bag filled with green clumps. “I fucking love you, you damn son of a dick!”

Chris who had been laughing at Tracii’s over eagerness to get high, laughed again. The doorbell rang and Chris asked if he could get that. Tracii pocketed the drugs and took off for the front door. Opening the door, he found a jittery and slightly buzzed Slash standing in the doorway.

“H-hey, Tracii,” Slash mumbled.

“Hey, man! Come on in. We were just about to bake some brownies!” Tracii said, throwing his arms wide and smiling even wider.

“Ah, well, I acutally needed… Well, um. Needed to talk to you.”

Tracii paused mid step and pivoted around to look at Slash. “Uh, okay?” He waited expectantly for Slash to continue. The shy guitarist just stood there. “Saul?” The slow speech as well as his birth name made Slash jump slightly. Tracii smiled gently. “Are you ready for your education?” Slash nodded, turning away. “Come on then. Don’t be shy.” Tracii grabbed his arm and pulled him into the house. “Chris! We have company and you better have Brownie mix!”

“Hey, Slash,” Chris said as he came into the kitchen. “Yeah we have Brownie mix. Shove over.” He playfully pushed Tracii out of the way and grabbed a box from the cupboard.

“Well good,” Tracii started. “Now that you have all the domestic shit under control, Slash and I will go play guitar.”

“Sure you will,” Chris said, knowing full well what Tracii was planning and what Slash had come here for. “Don’t make a mess.”

“We’ll clean up,” Tracii threw back with a wink and pulled Slash out of the room before the other could say a word. He grabbed his guitar and led Slash up the stairs into a bedroom. He let Slash stay in the doorway as he ran around the room, plugging in the guitar and tuning a second one. “Come here.” Tracii flicked his head back down to watch his tuning. He looked back up when he noticed Slash hadn’t moved. “We’re going to play guitar for a while. Now get your ass over here.”

Slash finally complied and walked over. Once the ax was in his hand, he immediately relaxed. Tracii started to shred, and Slash thought that maybe they didn’t wouldn’t actually do anything. As much as he wanted to experience it, he was scared.

The sounds of Joe Perry and Jimmy Page electrified the airwaves, setting it on fire in crackling spits and sparks as they wailed on their instruments. Each became lost in their own head as they soloed and riffed. At times they met somewhere in the middle and found their sounds merging into one in a head on collision. Yet just as soon as they met, they exploded into the atom bomb of their own destiny. Once the life was shredded out of their guitars and their amps were starting to hiss from the heat they collapsed onto the bed.

Big grins were plastered on their faces as they panted and gasped for breath. Tracii shamelessly let his arms splay out to his sides and gently slap against Slash’s bare chest. He didn’t even wonder why Slash was shirtless. Tracii had been running around the house the entire day in his underwear. What he did wonder about is when Slash let his leg fall in between his. Tracii turned his head to find a musician on an adrenaline high. Tracii smiled and ran his fingertips over the others jaw. Slash practically purred as he leaned into the touch and inched closer, rolling onto his side as he did so. Tracii angled his body, effectively pinning Slash’s leg between his thighs and circled his arm around Slash’s shoulders.

They kissed. Tracii taking it slow, but finding Slash was too shy to initiate anything. He worked on leading Slash’s lips to the right spot and rhythm, knowing that once he found it he’d be one hell of a kisser. For now it was a bit off, but Tracii hummed appreciatively to encourage him. Tracii braced himself on his elbows as he rose to a sitting position and pulled Slash along with him until the dark skinned man was straddling his lap. Whether it was the movement or feeling Tracii’s half hard erection beneath his crotch, Slash placed a tentative hand against Tracii’s chest and pulled back.

“What’s wrong?” Tracii asked, licking his wet lips.

“Is this okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Aren’t you with Izzy? Isn’t he a jealous type?”

“Izzy’s cool with this. We talked about it.”

“You talked about fucking me?”

“We talked about me guiding you into this before some fat asshole took advantage of you.”

“Are you going to tell him about what we do?”

“Do you want me too?” Tracii asked and Slash’s eyes went comically wide. “I’m kidding, man. I’m kidding! Look we don’t even have to do anything, okay? I just want you to feel comfortable doing things and comfortable saying no. I’m not going to push you into anything, but I want to make sure you don’t get taken advantage of. Izzy wants that for you too.”

“What are you two? My fairy gay parents?”

“Mmm, Izzy’s not comfortable with that g-word, but sure you can think of us that way.” Tracii eased Slash off of him. “Come on. I can smell the brownies. They’ve got to be cool enough to eat now. No doubt…”

A gust of air expelled from Tracii’s mouth as he was pushed onto his back. Slash retook his spot in Tracii’s lap and held him pinned with a shaky hand. Tracii looked at the shake of his hand that matched his trembling lips. Taking his wrist in both hands, he tightened his grip and looked up into the teen’s eyes. “Buddy, like I said, we don’t have to do anything. I’m not telling anyone, even Izzy about whatever we do or don’t do tonight.”

“But… I want to…” Slash said softly. Tracii released his grip slowly as Slash found his courage. His gaze flicked up as he heard the pulsing sounds of Black Sabbath pounding from the record player. Tracii had managed to reach it without knocking Slash off. Fueled by music and desire to not be the weird virgin anymore, Slash lowered his mouth.

           

…

Duff threw his shoulder one last time into the door. Splinters flew from the chipped wood as it shuddered open with trepidation. He stumbled forward almost landing on his knees if not for Axl quickly grabbing his arm.

“Thanks,” Duff turned to him, smiling sheepishly. “Door always sticks so don’t be afraid to manhandle it a bit. Just watch your step.”

Axl nodded as they walked into the room. Duff’s apartment was a one-room studio with a pile of blankets stacked in the corner amongst two homemade pillows of rags. A small sink sat idly in the corner with a tiny mirror that had been ripped off a car door, above it. On the far side of the room a chair rescued from someone’s back alley lay exhausted against the one small window. Several old t-shirts dangled across the dust-glazed panes serving as curtains.

The walls were tarnished and beginning to yellow from cigarette ash and age. A few sparse punk rock concert posters adorned various corners. Clothes, jewelry, and other items littered the floor. Duff quickly shuffled the affects to one side with his boot, clearing a path on the hard stained floor.

“My roommate hasn’t left just yet, but he’s staying with his girlfriend until he heads out to New York,” Duff explained, motioning to the clear spot for Axl to sit and unpack. “The bathroom’s down the hall. It’s a community shower, but it has stalls. Not many use it really and sometimes they turn the water off, but not often. Oh, and you’re welcome to the closet.”

He pulled back a tall door that had a huge crack running down the center. It creaked and swayed outward as he drew it to the side revealing a bare cavern.

“Careful when you open it. The hinges were broken when I started renting this place,” Duff said, kicking an odd shaped piece of wood on the floor. “I’ve finally gotten enough dough to do laundry which is why my clothes aren’t in here. I just haven’t had a chance to get down to the laundry mat.”

“So you’re a musician?” Axl asked as he placed his suitcase in the closet. His movements were stiff and rigid, watching the foreign entity warily.

“Yeah! Well at least I want to be. Right now I’ve got a part time job as an appetizer server downtown. I had a gig last night at a club. The house band needed a bass player and I knew one of the waitresses so I got the gig.”

“You play bass?”

“And drums and guitar. I want to get in a band and make a life for myself in music.”

Axl nodded and almost dropped a shirt he had picked up as he maneuvered trough the maze of debris.

“Do you play an instrument?” Duff smiled, lying against his frayed leather guitar case.

“No,” Axl said his voice cracked. It came out high pitched and harsh. He softened his tone when he noticed the kind and curious eyes watching him. “Well, I can play piano and I sing a little. At least I did when I was in the choir back home.”

“Hey, cool. We should get some guys together and start a band. You’re probably a kick ass singer if you’re voice can crack that high.” Duff beamed, but Axl blushed. The red head tried to scowl to cover up his embarrassment at allowing his voice to squeak. “Uh, no offense man.”

“Okay. Yeah. Maybe.”

“Sure we should,” Duff said, snapping off his fourth beer from the six-pack they had bought. It took most of Duff’s paycheck, but he didn’t care as he slammed back half the can. “We’ll start first thing tomorrow.” He yawned.

“It is tomorrow,” Axl pointed out. Turning back around he found Duff fast asleep against the wall. Begrudgingly a slight smile spread over Axl’s sun illuminated face as Duff began to snore softly. He cuddled his the remaining beers like a teddy bear.

Something still bothered Axl. It was the man in the leather trench. His face was gaunt almost hallow like a skeleton drawn from the depths of that hellish night. Yet there was a familiarity that he couldn’t get over. That stupid fucking feeling was the only thing that stopped him from decking the drug-dealing bastard, that and Duff intervening.

Looking down, Axl realized he had taken his cross off and was now rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. The tiny faded gold glittered like the irises of the impish man. Axl’s lips moved silently as he placed the religious trinket against his chin. Sighing to himself, he placed a chaste kiss to the necklace before refastening it around his neck.

Duff snorted, shifting in his sleep. Axl’s critical eyes ran over the elongated body searching for signs of consciousness. Duff seemed dead to the world as his bare torso rose and fell. Lying down next to him, Axl closed his eyes trying to block out the haunting apparition that loomed in his brain.

 

…

 

In the middle of the night Duff awoke to a heavy warmth on top of him. Opening one eye his vision was blocked by a sea of coppery red that blazed in the sunlight. It was Axl from the bus. Duff smiled happily that the guy hadn’t left or tried to mug him for that matter. He was rather drunk when he offered Axl a place to stay, but he was glad he did. Duff nestled farther down against the wall, closing his eyes, as he was lulled to sleep by another breathing.

 

…

 

Across town on the other side of Sunset Boulevard lived a house of quiet proportions. A ranch style house serenely set in the dewy morning light. The kind old porch swing, glided back and forth in the benign morning wind as the neighbor’s wind chimes clanged together in a rich harmony of melancholy peace.

“Fuck those chimes,” Slash grumbled, clutching his head. He tugged hard at his hair, trying to drown out the sound with pain. With a dull thud, he rolled off the couch to crawl underneath, but he bumped into a large blonde dust ball or rather Steven’s fluffy blonde head. “Steven, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Sleeping, dumbass.” Steven mumbled, burying his head deeper into his arms.

“Well, move over, fucker. I’m trying to escape those fucking wind chimes,” Slash whined, pushing Steven’s shoulder.

“Turn off the light first, asshole,” Steven hissed back. He kicked Slash out of the safety of the couch. Slash growled. Catching the drummer’s ankle, he hauled him out into the burning sun. “What the hell, man! I made money last night leave me alone!”

“Oh, good. You’re both up,” Izzy said, tossing a leg over the sofa then the other to perch on the back. Arms resting on his tight black jeans, he peered down at the squabbling twosome.

“I’m not going shopping right now, fucker. It’s too early,” Slash whined.

“You should go to school. You haven’t been for two weeks,” Steven reprimanded, pointing a finger at Slash. “And they keep assigning me to bring your homework home. Those books are damn heavy”

“Mom! When did you die your hair blonde? Is this a mid life crisis?” Slash asked, swaying a bit. Steven tried to crawl back under the couch.

“You went to school?” Izzy asked, dragging Steven out from under the couch by the waistband of his pants.

“Wait, I have homework?” Slash asked the concept foreign to him.

“Where are the textbooks?” Izzy probed further as Slash prevented the sleepy Steven from hiding under the couch again.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Steven said, beaming. Jumping to his feet, he immediately groaned as his head pounded harder from the sudden rise in elevation. He fell backwards onto the couch sprawled between Izzy’s legs. Holding his head, Steven squinted and pointed at Slash. “I sold your textbooks last night.”

“How much?” Izzy asked his brain already beginning to calculate money.

“I have textbooks?” Slash asked still completely bewildered, his mouth hung slightly agape.

“Not anymore. Made myself twenty bucks off your history book alone. They’re almost as good as selling drugs.”

“Look we need to go window shopping for some new gear if we’re going to try forming a band again.” Izzy informed the toxic twins as he counted Steven’s money. “Your guitar sounds like shit. And you can’t get by with TupperWare anymore.”

“Fuck you, fucker! No one can even hear your bass,” Slash growled. “I better go to school before they call my other Mom.” Slash dismissed padding lazily to the mirror. He tugged at his hair once before embarking on a quest to find his shoes.

“She still dating Bowie?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Slash hissed softly.

“Fuck school man,” Izzy growled, spinning around the back of the couch and onto his feet. Crossing the room in swift pointed strides, he glared hard at Slash. “We need to get serious about this.”

“Damn, fucker I don’t always go to class. I’m usually playing my guitar in the bathroom anyway. I just gotta go to keep up appearances and shit.” Slash wafted silently to the door. He could feel Izzy’s determined gaze burning through the back of his skull. “Why don’t you go lift our stuff and we’ll jam later? Stevie, you coming?”

The blonde moaned but dragged himself off the couch. He paused and pointed at Izzy’s exposed arm. “Hey, Izz. Why do you have blood underneath your fingernails?”

“Fucking, kids,” Izzy spat, pulling down his rolled up sleeve and pushing past the smaller boy. His boots clicked against the asphalt ignoring the moaning cries from behind him. Continuing down the L.A. suburban road, he ignored the awkward stares he received from more acceptable members of the human race who lived on Slash’s street.

Izzy knew they could make it big. They could be amazing, but he wished those two had more ambition. Slash had it in him when he wasn’t stoned. Izzy couldn’t be too hard on him really. He did more than his share of drugs and he supplied them to those two. Steven had the right spunk if he could ever get his act together and maybe ditch his love of KISS.

Turning a corner, Izzy found himself in a completely new part of town. One cast in shadow. The only sunlight allowed in was burnt orange, and haggard as if happiness had been sucked out of its soul. Ghoulish lies and secrets whispered in the wind taunting and tempting. The rancid underbelly looked as though it were painted with a cheap layer of white paint trying to mask the inevitable darkness.

A splash of water hit Izzy’s ankle. Peering down, he noticed he was ankle deep in a pothole filled with rainwater. Numerous puddles flooded the street turning it into a swamp. He had been awake all night and yet never saw or heard a single drop of rain, but it looked as though it had been a downpour.

He squatted down, noticing his reflection. Harsh lines lined his eyes and mouth. Drugs did not treat him well unless he was high then he was perfect. It was the only time he felt perfect or at the minimum okay.

A random bitter wind swept through his bones as he started scratching his arms. The remnants of a rainstorm and the promise of a brewing storm hung in the hollow echo of the breeze. L.A. rain wasn’t like Indiana rain. It was hotter, almost steamy, like the heart of a rain forest jungle. Like thick underbrush you had to fight your way through or allow yourself to be consumed by the painful heat that filled your lungs until there was nowhere left to breath except death’s kiss.

That was Indiana rain in the summer, but it wasn’t that way year round. He remembered the rain in winter the best, cold and unforgiving showers that destroyed the radiance of spring and summer. It was either torrential downpours or long lasting droughts of heavy humid air that made your skin weep and crawl in desperation for the river of life.

As he looked at himself, a memory of a night of Indiana rain in late November came back to him. One he hadn’t thought of in a while. Either it was Thanksgiving or a couple days after, he didn’t want to remember. It was late or early in the night depending on what time you went to bed, or woke up. A slim body pressed against him on his bed, seeking refuge even in his dreams.

Leaked tears had striped William’s pale cheeks his slender hand curled into the collar of Jeff’s night t-shirt. A thumb gently pressed against Jeff’s collarbone. Jeff kissed it. William snuggled harder, drawing closer to his side.

Jeff shushed him telling him that the sun would only shine tomorrow if he smiled. Despite the roaring thunder outside his childhood window, the tension was fading in the frail body beside him as it swiftly and painfully became one with Jeff’s. He smiled his fingers brushing softly against William’s damp shoulders.

Now Izzy shook his head aggressively trying to free himself from the imprisonment of the happy memory. He kicked the puddle hard in a futile attempt to bring him back into his present abyss. _That was two fucking years ago_. _Fuck, I can’t, can I?_ Izzy thought. Spying a familiar apartment, he spryly climbed the twisting vines and somersaulted through the open fifth floor window. He strolled along the corridor until he found room number six.

…

Izzy’s shades slid down his sweaty face as he tried to thread the next conch with the piece of cheap chord. It was laborious work and his arms were starting to redden in the glaring summer sun. The sound of a flock of seagulls overhead turned his gaze to the crashing waves of blue. He moaned slightly imagining the cooler water that would encircle his body as he dipped in the water. Just then his boyfriend strolled by or rather strutted. He was adorned with conch jewelry and was showing it off and chatting the tourists up. Izzy had to smile as he saw him flirt and charm his way into a sale. Though his teeth gritted when he saw Tracii let a girl slid a bill into his swim trunks. That wasn’t okay, but Izzy knew better than to make a scene. He’d just have to talk to him later.

Before long, Tracii came back completely bare of jewelry, but holding a thick wad of cash. He tossed it in Izzy’s lap as he collapsed onto his back.

“Good sale today. Lots of inland tourists looking for a piece of the ocean to take home with them.” Tracii tucked his hands behind his head and wiggled to get more comfortable in the warm sand, enjoying the sunbeams.

“Or a new guy to fuck,” Izzy muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tracii inquired as he cracked open an eye.

“I saw you flirt with that girl.”

“Izz, I flirt with everyone. That’s how I make sales,” Tracii replied matter-of-factually.

“Oh yeah?” Izzy started. “And do let _everyone_ put their hands down your pants when they want to pay you like some cheap hooker?”

“Hey, that was one girl and it meant shit. I wanted her money and I didn’t even get the least bit hard.”

“Point proven.”

Tracii sat up and draped his arms over his knees. He sighed, “Are we really reverting to your possessive streak again? I thought we got passed that.”

“How the hell can you be so fucking calm about this? You let another girl touch you like a common whore!” Izzy yelled.

“I don’t need this shit,” Tracii grumbled and stood. Izzy looked on with angry yet alarmed eyes.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you! She gave me a tip I knew I couldn’t pass up because I knew you needed the money to stop dru… your other activities. It’s in the center of that wad of cash, so don’t you ever accuse me of whoring myself out when I do it for you!”

“Tracii, get…”

“No, Izzy. You need some time to cool off. I’ll get home fine. I always do.” Without another word Tracii walked out of earshot.

Izzy watched him go back to the girl who he let touch him and quickly found the brunette jumping into her jeep. Izzy gritted his teeth, clenching the money in his fist. It was then he noticed the giant tip of a one hundred dollar bill tucked securely in the wad of money. Izzy had royally fucked up again. His heart hardened, yet a tiny piece of it shattered never to be found again.

…

 

Izzy sighed as he drew out from his thoughts. That happened a week or so ago and the pain of it still cut him deep. He knew he needed to apologize, beg forgiveness, or do something to get Tracii back. It was irritating to think he was back to his jealous possessive state again. He knew Tracii, though a flirt was the biggest monogamous guy he’d met. It also amazed Izzy how much the guy gave him freedom to explore himself. Tracii was never jealous or possessive of him, but Izzy quickly found that if he did anything without Tracii it hurt the guy. Izzy didn’t like seeing him hurt and he put an end to his elicit sexual behaviors. Then he had to go and fuck it all up over a huge overreaction to something that wasn’t even real. Izzy wondered if it was because of that night he got tripped out on some street drug. He remembered a bus and the color red, but couldn’t remember what he did or saw. He thought he recalled running into Slash, but the guitarist said he never saw him.

With another heavy sigh, Izzy rang the doorbell five times in succession, knocked three times, rang it once again and waited. Foot tapping, he crossed his arms while he waited. Soft thuds, a scuffle, and a few choice heated words droned from behind the door. It swung open with a mild shuddering vibration sending flecks of cheap paint to all sides. A short blonde smiled up at him.

“Hi there.” Her voice had a trace of an accent and her lips peeled up into a radiant smile. Izzy gave her a curt nod, his eyes looking around her to find a slim man stalking her.

“Aw, you have to leave so soon?” The naked man wrapped an arm around the clothed girl’s waist. His torso was lean with soft ripples of muscle along his flat toned belly. Izzy’s eyes followed his happy trail to the button to his more promising and hidden bits. He only wore a cowboy hat that was smashed on top of his untamed dirty coal black hair. She moaned softly, but pushed him away.

“Got to get to work.” She kissed him. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge while I’m gone. And you.” She placed a single manicured finger on Izzy’s chest. “Should stick around and the three of us can have a little fun later.” With a wink, she strutted down the hall in long determined strides, head held high. The man draped himself against the jagged edges of the door frame, eyes glued to the fading blonde.

“Since when do you drool over women, cowboy?”

The cowboy snapped his head to Izzy. His eyes bugged out as if he had just realized the guitarist was standing there. His cowboy hat almost fell off his head as he jerked against the door. Izzy bit back a laugh, as the other looked excited, aroused, and embarrassed. It seemed like the cowboy didn’t know which one he should be at the moment.

“Since you fucking quit coming over, Stradlin,” the cowboy replied haughtily, pushing the hat down atop Izzy’s head. Izzy quickly worked to remove it. “I mean you fucking yelled at me at the beach then fucked off for a week. You knew where I was. That’s why I waved at you from the jeep. Not to mention all the other shit that’s getting real with you. And then you want to join my band. You don’t want to join my band. You want to sell your drugs instead of the conch necklaces, even though I look fucking hot in them. So I tried to buy your drugs, but you don’t sell them to me. You drive me crazy and make me miss you every day and if you want me back I want an apology.”

Izzy stepped forward and seized the shorter man’s wrists in one hand. He twirled him around like a tango dancer before slamming him into the rickety door, effectively shutting it. Izzy drew the other’s hands up above his head as he started to grind his lean hips against the others naked flesh.

“How’s this for an apology?” Izzy growled lustfully. “I’m going to give that pretty little mouth of yours something better to do, Tracii.” Swiftly he drew Tracii onto his chest, causing Tracii to arch on tiptoe. Fastening the other guitarist’s long sinewy arms around his waist, Izzy kissed him hard. Tracii pushed back breaking their lips apart.

“Are you high?”

“I wish,” Izzy said with a feigned sigh, “By the way.” He pulled out the hundred-dollar bill and held it against Tracii’s chest as if it were a rose.

“You didn’t spend it? But babe, you…”

Izzy kissed him, making sure to take any stress off of Tracii’s neck as he pushed the money into his hand and laced his arms around his shoulders. “You earned this more than I did and not for being a whore. You take care of all of me, cowboy. I don’t deserve you.”

Tracii grinned impishly as he shoved the cowboy hat back down on Izzy’s head. “Well then let’s fucking party, Izzy-bell!” He put the money in his mouth and grinned.

“Don’t call me that.” Izzy’s eyes narrowed.

Tracii just snickered as he shoved the money into Izzy’s pocket. Before Izzy could object he found his legs walking backwards and deeper into the apartment by his belt. He started kissing him, as he bent Izzy over the back of the couch. His thumb dipped beneath the black denim running a blunt nail over Izzy’s hidden supple skin. Izzy groaned, arching forward.

“Like that?” Tracii asked.

“Just like, that,” Izzy exhaled, cupping the back of Tracii’s head bringing him closer to his body. He bit and sucked the other boy’s bottom lip and cheek. Tracii’s ragged breath was a humid hiss against his cheek. “Lower.”

Tracii smirked at the lusty command, which he was all too happy to fulfill. With an exaggerated sweep of his head Tracii slunk down Izzy’s chest. Placing gentle kisses and even smaller nips to Izzy’s torso as he worked the buttons of the other boy’s shirt off one at a time. Izzy groaned as the hot wet lips and pointed teeth grazed his skin that left a trail of red in their wake. Izzy braced himself on the couch so he could shove the guitarist’s head down faster. Tracii shook Izzy’s greedy hands out of his hair. Cheekily he placed his head against Izzy’s hip nuzzling the shirttail up the his belly.

“Want it fast today?” Tracii grinned against Izzy’s navel his eyes, peeking up to meet Izzy’s hooded eyes.

“What do you think?” Izzy hissed, but it came out a ragged whisper as Tracii’s tongue swirled his navel tickling inside before kissing it. He raised one of his trembling legs as the pleasure rocked through his calf muscles, placing his foot on Tracii’s shoulder.

“If you want it fast then you have to say, pretty please, pretty one,” Tracii taunted, pulling away from Izzy’s grasp.

With a growl, the other quickly grabbed him. Without ceremony, Izzy yanked him down onto his chest. Tracii placed a hand out to catch them before they both fell, but he only succeeded in spluttering as his mouth was attacked. He arched, whimpering against Izzy’s teasing fingers that tickled along his lower belly, searching for just the right spot. It was too much. Tracii’s resolve broke and they both tumbled to the floor with a loud thud. Izzy held his throbbing head, and Tracii groaned, but recovered quicker. Mounting, Izzy’s hips, he placed both hands on the tops of Tracii’s unbuttoned jeans.

“Relax, babe. I got you covered,” Tracii purred as he set to work, using his mouth to pull the other’s pants the rest of the way.

That voice was the same deep wild purr that made Izzy’s head feel light, and saturated with lust the first time they had slept together. It vaguely reminded him of that deep guttural voice from years ago. When the owner was happy. Tracii rubbed circles over Izzy’s hipbones, slowly moving further down his body to reveal more tantalizing skin.

Izzy kicked his jeans off his last leg as Tracii moved his succulent mouth back up. Izzy arched his back as his fingers tried to dig into the floor. Using pain to fight off his memories of years ago and enjoy the present. The slimmer body, the creamy skin, the fine hands that seemed so eager to explore every inch of him. The closeness of their bodies seeking and finding the other in between the sheets only to…no! Yes! Tracii reached up, pushing Izzy’s hands into his hair. Puzzled, Izzy looked down.

“Hold on to me,” Tracii whispered, threading Izzy’s hand in his hair. The greasy strands instantly tangled around Izzy’s nimble fingers and he gave a sharp tug. Tracii hummed teasingly against the flesh beside Izzy’s crotch, enjoying the hard tugs of his hair. The vibrations sent Izzy into a frenzied tailspin as his hips shot forward. His belly hit Tracii’s cold nose, adding new waves of shivers to transcend his spine.

Tracii smirked before coyly wrapping his tongue around Izzy’s hardened flesh. His wet tongue sawed against the underside wiggling it against his balls. He drew away only to lap at the base like an eager puppy while petting Izzy’s thighs, drawing gentle circles in his pubic hair.

“Faster, ah fuck,” Izzy cursed between heavy moans of pleasure. Tracii pouted against his skin, nuzzling it as he gazed sideways.

“That’s not the magic word, but fine. You’re not much fun today anyway.” Before Izzy could make a snarky remark, Tracii engulfed his entire length, literally pulling every drop of the bitter liquid from his erection. Sucking hard, Tracii brought his mouth back up the shaft to the base before humming his way back down the hardened flesh, tugging more and more. Izzy kicked the floor with his boot as he moaned and screamed, coming hard and fast into Tracii’s mouth.

With a soft pop Tracii pulled back. A satiated grin plastered on his face. A thin sheen of sweat covered Izzy’s throbbing chest spasms of aftershock raked his body as he panted for air. He snuggled deeper between Izzy’s spent thighs, resting his head on the panting chest. He peered up at the breathless guitarist.

“So are we monogamous boyfriends again, sexy? And are you sorry?” Tracii snickered against Izzy’s quivering thigh, kissing it softly.

“Yeah, sure. Yes, fuck of course I am and we are.”

“Wonderful,” Tracii laughed, flicking his lighter open. He lit two cigarettes in his mouth and passed one to Izzy once the paper had caught. “I’m glad you came back. I was starting to worry it was the end.”

Izzy smashed the abandoned cowboy hat back down on the younger boy’s head. Tracii laughed and peeked out from underneath the brim. A serpentine stream of smoke passed between his lips as his tongue swiped the remaining drops of Izzy’s cum off his still bare penis.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

…

“I don’t even know why I’m asking, but why did he let you do this?”

“He said he didn’t want me to find out from someone who’d be an asshole to me.”

“And how does Izzy feel about all of this?” Marc continued to clean a glass as he probed Slash for more details minus the actual explicit ones. “Didn’t he have a jealous streak before?”

“Tracii said that’s long gone. And they talked about it.”

“Talked about it!” Marc nearly dropped the glass he’d been cleaning for the past thirty minutes.

“Well, yeah. Just to clear it with him. Tracii promised me he wouldn’t tell Izzy anything.”

“And you believed him? What if this is some sick fantasy of theirs or some shit?”

“Dude, no. I trust Tracii and Izzy’s a decent guy. Kind of an aloof prick sometimes, but decent enough.”

“I don’t know, man. Are you sure… Oh, hi, Izzy.”

“Yeah, hey. Do you have any of those pies Tracii likes?”

“Yeah, I should have some in back. How many slices?”

“Just one,” he said as he coolly pulled a wad of cash out of his boot. Slash couldn’t help but stare. He was still jealous at how comfortable Izzy seemed to have gotten over his years here in L.A. He even had someone to fuck on a regular basis. Slash was still the better guitarist. Slash had to remind himself of that.

“Slash? Are you alive?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry.”

Izzy shrugged indifferently.

“Is it Tracii’s birthday or something?”

“What?” Izzy was thrown for a second but regained his cool composure smoothly.

“You’re buying him pie.”

“Oh. No. This is a second peace offering for being a dick and not the good kind.”

“Oh,” Slash replied unsure of what else to say. Izzy didn’t seem to want to talk. He never seemed like he wanted to talk and Slash let him be.

Marc soon returned with the pie Izzy paid and as he turned to go he turned to face Slash. “Just so you don’t worry yourself to an unfortunate early grave, this peace offering has nothing to do with you. It has to do with me fucking up. I’m glad he helped you and no. I have no fucking idea what you two did or didn’t do. There needs to be more people like him in this world to help you find yourself. I’m just glad you had that opportunity.” Slash relaxed until Izzy added, “Just remember that one’s mine. I hope you find happiness, but you don’t get to have it with Tracii.”

“He’s a piece of work, isn’t he?” Marc asked rhetorically as they both stared after the guitarist.

Slash could only nod. He couldn’t deny he wanted something of Izzy, but he wasn’t sure if it was of a sexual nature. Was it admiration? Slash just rolled his eyes and took a sip of his soda.

“Hey, are you and Steven still jamming tonight? I get off at five and I’d love to get some shots of you guys rehearsing.”

“Steven’s out of the band again. He went back to Ohio, but we found a new guy to work on drums and we’ve resurrected Titus Sloan again. Want to take some pics of that?”

“Definitely! Man, I’m telling you one day, man. One day something’s going to happen with you at the helm. I fucking know it.”

Slash smiled. “Well, I’m off. I need to get my guitar and head over to practice so I’m not late.”

“It’s not for another two hours,” Marc pointed out.

“Yeah, but I plan to sleep for at least one in the guy’s living room. I’m just hoping his mom doesn’t mind.”

“See ya, Slash!” Marc called with a wave as Slash walked outside. He found his bike locked beside Marc’s. He glanced back inside then back at the bikes. Instead of taking his he unlocked Marc’s and left a piece of notebook paper with a smiley facing smoking a cigarette on it. On the back he scribbled a crude image of a woman. He vaguely wondered if he should change it to a man, but decided to leave it and wrapped it around the spokes. Crouching down, he pulled the bike away and swung his leg over hoping Marc didn’t see him as he peddled away.

…

Izzy smiled when he felt a small wet drop of drool hit his chest. It had woken him from his post-sex sleep. Tracii was always adorable when he slept. He always had the sweetest sleeping face. Izzy remembered one time when Tracii asked him if he was more attractive when his mouth was closed. Apparently one of his past flings told him he liked him better when he didn’t talk. Izzy had gotten mad and told him to never say that about himself ever again. He thought Tracii was wonderful no matter if his mouth was talking, sucking his cock, or just sleeping happily Izzy always found him adorable and endearing.

After Tracii had sucked him off, he promptly kissed him slowly, massaging the shallows of his slender hips until Tracii eased himself onto his back, opening himself up to Izzy and whimpering for a more intimate touch. Izzy complied. Scooping Tracii up in his arms, he carried him to the bedroom where he lay the younger down and proceeded to give him the most sensual fuck he could. The whole time Tracii whimpered and panted in ecstasy, becoming drunk from the pleasure of not onl his body being worshiped but also his heart. Izzy had even wiped him down with a damp towel, leaving his skin slightly chilled and ready to cuddle.

Izzy was glad he could convey his apology through sex to Tracii. It was one of the things he admired about the other. He earned himself another smile from the slumbering guitarist as well as a soft snuggle when he ran his thumb over Tracii’s brow. He felt lucky to have Tracii. Sure he could be spontaneous, crazy, unpredictable, and a bit of a flirt, but he was genuine and committed to Izzy. Izzy knew he needed to be more committed to Tracii.

He hated that his old jealous possessive nature had reared its ugly head. He hadn’t acted that way in years. He shuddered as he remembered the last time it did. Their relationship was still new to both of them and Tracii has pressed to deep into Izzy’s past. He wasn’t ready to deal with that old battle scar and he instantly broke up with Tracii on the spot and stormed out. He lost himself that night. Not just between the thighs of other partners, but that was when he found a more lucrative business. Tracii found him again on the Strip and pulled him out of there before he got to deep. Tracii was Izzy’s L.A. angel and now he almost hurt him again. Izzy hated himself for it. He couldn’t even be sure he really saw what he did. He blamed the drugs he was tampering with that made him hallucinate, because no way in one in a million chances did he see what he saw that night.

…

Slash decided to pick up some snacks on his way to Ron’s house so he slipped into the grocery store. The owner was busy chastising another kid for trying to shoplift. That made him snicker. _Amateur._ He walked around bored as hell, but his hands were less than idle as he slipped bags of chips from the shelves. Deciding to be even more daring, he took a couple cans of soda. He was glad these pants had so many pockets to fit his loot. He didn’t particularly like them when he lifted them from the mall the other day, but he definitely appreciated them now. He grabbed a couple music magazines on his way out. The sounds of the shopkeeper continued long after the door slammed shut. The old man hadn’t even batted an eye at Slash.

Kicking the stand of Marc’s bike up, he swung his leg over and peddled away like everything was normal. He was a great thief and knew it too. Although he had to admit his greatest heist was the one he got caught.

***

Slash loved the bombardment of flashing lights as his bike took the last and tallest hill. Moving with the bike, he gunned it at the last moment for an extra burst of speed. It was a reckless move, but effective as he crossed the finish line before his competitors. Crowds went wild and his eyes shyly darted over to the girls. Unfortunately the ones with the greatest racks weren’t looking at him, but there were a couple cute ones did smile and wave in his direction. He didn’t approach any of them, only waited for them to come to him, but then a bike caught his eye. It was bright green with a Ted Nugent sticker on the side. Slash wondered if it was the sticker or the fact that the bike was more expensive than his own caught his eye. Regardless, his dad wasn’t due to pick him up for some time and the bike did look inviting. Taking quick inventory of the field, he strolled over and started to toy with the lock on the motorbike.

“Hey,” came a voice, “what are you doing with my bike?”

Slash froze and looked up. It was just a kid. He realized they even went to Fairfax together.

“Hey,” Slash said with a shy smile. “You’re Marc, right?”

“Yeah. Marc Canter. You’re that kid who wants everyone to call him Slash, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Nice to meet you, Slash. I didn’t know you raced bikes.”

“Yeah. I’ve just been getting into them. My dad drops me off and I race and then he picks me up.”

“Cool. Me too. My dad’s brought some sandwiches. If you’re hungry you should come try a pastrami on rye. They’re just like what you’d get at our restaurant.”

“Restaurant?”

“Yeah. My family owns Canter’s Deli just down the way from The Strip.”

“Oh yeah? I ought to come by to visit.”

“You should! We can drink milkshakes and go riding. You can try out my bike if you’d like too.”

Before Slash could respond a security guard interrupted, “Excuse me young man. We’ve had a couple reports of things going missing. Some have commented that a kid looking a lot like you has been sneaking around other racer’s gear.” He pointed directly at Slash and the youth tried to remain calm. His heart was thundering in his chest and he was starting to feel dizzy.

“Oh no, sir,” Marc cut in. “He’s my friend and I was just showing him some of my stickers. He’s been with me ever since his race ended. We were just about to go eat some food my dad brought. Would you like a sandwich?”

The security guard studied Marc then looked back at Slash. He frowned, but knew he had nothing on the kid. Pocketing his notebook, he said, “All right then. My mistake. Be good kids.”

“I knew you were trying to steal my bike.”

Slash tried to protest. “I saw the sticker…”

“No you didn’t. I know you’re a Nugent fan, but that’s not what attracted you to my bike. You were trying to steal it. I know.”

“You did?” Slash spluttered looking at the very straight faced Marc. “Then why didn’t you rat me out?”

“Why should I have? My bike’s still here and now we can hang out and talk about stuff.” Marc waved a hand. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

Slash smiled and followed after Marc.

***

Slash laid down on Ron’s sofa, a sandwich on his lap, a soda between his thighs, and a bag of chips somewhere. The pastrami still tasted amazing and his friendship with Marc had been growing ever since that day. He was anxious to start playing his guitar. He hadn’t jumped a bike in practically a decade now, but he didn’t go more than a minute without touching his guitar. That beautiful thing had become so important part of his life he almost forgot to touch himself and instead played through the night.

….

“You’re going to meet him, right?”

Chris jumped, his pencil skittering off the page and leaving a charcoal mark on the desk. “Well, hello, Tracii. I’m doing well. Thank you for asking.”           

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine,” Tracii replied slightly puzzled. He flopped onto the bed after promptly removing his shirt. “So look, you need to meet Izzy. You guys could really make something of yourselves.”

“I told you I would,” Chris reminded him patiently. “But I do need to study for our Chemistry test tomorrow. I need to maintain my C average or my parents aren’t going to be helping fund our music. Get it?”

“I know, I know,” the other responded though his mind had already drifted to other thoughts. “I don’t understand why school is so important when you find your real passion. Shouldn’t we all find what we were put on this Earth to do, and then do it with all our time and energy?”

“You’re getting borderline political, you know that right, hippie?”

Tracii just grinned and rolled onto his back. “I just know something’s starting. Something big. I just want to know what it is. I can feel it and I know Izzy can feel it too. It’s why you two _have_ to meet as soon as right now.” Peaking out of one eye, he saw Chris had gone back to taking notes. Tracii sighed and tilted his head back, he asked, “Do you think it’s weird that I like Izzy both as the 40’s gangster as well as the pretty girl he turned into when he was in Naughty Women?

“No. It was weirder when you fussed over him like and overbearing nurse when he came to your house with a cut on his face after his first gig with Naughty Women.”

“Mmm,” Tracii moaned as he lazily stoked his bare stomach. “He was so hot in those tight pants. Those fucks shouldn’t have touched him. He said he was glad I wasn’t there, but I wish I were. I would have punched those assholes lights out.” Tracii paused before adding, “By the way can I borrow your bass?”

Chris stopped taking notes and turned to face Tracii. “What for?”

“Izzy needs it. He’s auditioning for this new band called The Atoms. They need a bass player.”

“I thought he was a drummer.”

“He is er, was. He wants to focus on his song writing abilities and someone nicked his kit.”

“They stole all of it?”

“Yep, stole it straight out of his car. Didn’t even leave a symbol for him.”

“I guess they left him his car?”

“Yeah, they did.” Tracii rolled to his belly as he thought. “He actually wished they would have taken the car but left his kit.” He thumped his hands on the bed. “So anyway, can I borrow your bass for him?”

“Have you noticed you’ve basically become his groupie?”

“What I’ve _become_ ,” Tracii started, “is someone who’s going to bring out the real rockstar out of him that he is. He’s got more talent than over half this town and he’s got the drive to find the right people and figure out the way to the top.”

“You’re putting a lot of hope on him, you know.”

“Because I know he can do it. Just like I knew he was into guys when I first met him. If he hadn’t been into music, he’d be my groupie right now. Cuz you forget, I’m a fucking bad ass guitarist.”

“You remind me every day. How can I forget?” Chris asked with a smile.

“Would you be wiling to switch to drums?”

“Why?”

“So the three of us can make a band and become the kings of the school.”

“What’s the chances of us quizzing each other for the Chem exam right now?”

“Is Mary Jane around?”

“No.”

“Can I borrow your bass?”

“You mean can Izzy borrow my bass?”

“Same thing.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Then we can play school if you really want,” Tracii conceded in a mock exasperated voice.

“All right.” Chris handed him the bass. “It’s missing a string. I never bothered to re-string it after I switched to lead.” Chris picked up his textbook, but when he turned back around he found Tracii gone. “You ready for …?” Chris heard the soft pounding of footsteps running down the hall and peaked out of the door to find the flash known as Tracii running. The hippie turned and saluted him with his bass.

“Thanks for the bass, dude! I’m sure he’ll take good care of it. Tell teach that I’m sick tomorrow. Izzy wants to jam for a bit and I’m nowhere near ready for that test.”

And with that last sentence, Tracii jumped down the stairs and bolted out the front door. If anyone else had done that, Chris would have been pissed but there was never staying mad at Tracii, even if he wanted to. He went back to his textbook, but now found he couldn’t concentrate. His thoughts kept drifting to Izzy. The talk around the city was the guy was this cool fuck from the Midwest, but if you asked him anything he’d shut down and move on. He was always on the move always seemed to have somewhere else to be even when he didn’t. Yet, Tracii seemed to see so much in him. It didn’t help that they were fucking and possibly in love. In love as much as two youths could be in L.A. Now Chris was seriously considering meeting Izzy and seeing if he could go somewhere with a band. It couldn’t be any more or less sucky if he tried the straight and narrow path of an education could it?

…


	3. Rocket Queen Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cool!” Slash said then blushed slightly. “Uh I’ll give you my address you should totally cum! Oh uh not co-uh you know come by and jam with us.”

Slash was in the middle of a high-powered solo. He felt alive as his fingers moved over the strings alternating the tone and tempo of the chords he was pulling out from what seemed to be thin air. His head bobbed and his heart pounded almost louder than the kick drum behind him. He felt electric. He felt right until Adam continued to the next part of the song and singer number five started to sing the next verse. Faltering, he shot a glance to the rest of Tidus Sloan. Every one of them was now several measures ahead. None seem to care that Slash wasn’t done with his solo. He looked at Steven who cocked his head in resignation. With a sigh Slash joined in the song, playing his part but hating it. The bass player just dropped several notes.

None of the audience seemed to notice. Except for Marc who had sneaked in and was snapping pictures of the band. He gave an understanding sad smile to his friend. For once Slash was concerned how pissed he must have looked in those snapshots. None of the audience seemed to worry how they looked. All of them were drunk off their ass. Slash was pretty sure he just saw someone’s patsy ass take a leak in the pool. This wedding gig sucked ass. What sucked even more was Slash was in a suit. He couldn’t jump and move around as freely as he usually did on stage. It really didn’t matter in one respect; no one seemed to pay attention.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing his head. He looked up to find Steven glaring at him and pointing at his guitar. Slash had dropped off the beat again. The singer shot him a death glare, but Slash could only stand there listlessly. Nothing seemed to matter and yet this is what he loved to do. He played his guitar close to twelve hours a day. His band mates seemed to only play when it was music class or if there was a girl around that they wanted to fuck.

“Come on, man,” Louie whispered to him. “Just finish the set so we can get paid.” Slash gave a non-committal grunt but found the rhythm eventually.

It took too long for the set to be over for Slash, but finally he found himself with his band splitting up the money. Steven had run off with a bridesmaid and forgot about his cut entirely. The band vetoed Slash taking Steven’s share of the loot to him. With a shrug he pocketed his share. He vaguely heard singer number five and Louie bickering about something. Something about the band and learning cover songs. Slash’s heart felt too heavy and broken to care when the intensity was directed to him. He knew he fucked up. His entire performance was a fuck up and he couldn’t bring himself to care. At that moment, he could barely bring himself to face his guitar. He felt like he had let his partner down and didn’t have the same enthusiasm for it as he used to.

“This isn’t cool anymore guys,” he said abruptly. The others instantly fell silent and turned to stare at him.

“What?” Louie asked.

“I don’t want to be in this group anymore.” He left without another word or acknowledgement from his ex-band mates.

Slash biked through the streets, guitar strapped to his back. Snippets of the argument and yelling that had ensued after Slash called it quits kept creeping back into his head. It wasn’t a bitterness that he felt. Slash had left and actually set off a chain reaction of quitting until the only one in the band was Steven only because he wasn’t present to quit. What bothered Slash was he still hadn’t found the right guys. It wasn’t clicking like he dreamed it would. Singer number five wasn’t much better than one through four, although he was a nicer guy than the others. That meant little to Slash though.

He slowed his bike. Placing his foot on the pavement he glanced at the house he had stopped in front of. _Tracii? Why did I go to Tracii’s house?_ He was completely miffed that he went to Tracii’s house and not Marc’s. Canter usually could build Slash back up when he felt like he was going to crumble or felt a bit lost. Tracii would probably just laugh if he told him about his failed band and the fucked up wedding gig. Slash wondered if that was really true or not. Tracii was a nice kid and a great friend to Slash in many different departments of life. He didn’t always hang out with people, but he was a very dedicated friend.

Somehow Slash found himself ringing Tracii’s doorbell and waiting for an answer. He wondered if Tracii was out and he’d get his parents. They were cool hippies. They’d have to be to put up with a crazy kid like Tracii. Slash wondered if he and Izzy were midfuck and he was disturbing them. He wondered…

“Slash?” It was Tracii. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a gig tonight?”

Lifting his head, he found a fully nude Tracii looking at him curiously. He almost laughed at how at ease Tracii was with his body. “I _did_ catch you mid fuck.”

“What?” Tracii frowned, cocking his head, but then followed Slash’s gaze down to his naked cock. “Oh. Heh, no you didn’t. Izzy’s not here tonight. I’ve got the place to myself. Hey! Come in and jam with me!” He turned then and bounded into the room, leaving the door wide open in welcome. Slash took the invitation and closed the door behind him.

“I don’t think I’m in the mood to play tonight,” Slash replied as he watched Tracii plug his guitar in and set up another amp for him.

“Dude, you’re never not not in the mood.” Tracii held the cable out to him. He shook it to get Slash to take it. “It won’t bite.”

Slash took it but didn’t plug it in right away. Tracii rolled his eyes and launched into a Jimmy Page inspired riff. He reached over and started playing with his theremin, pulling weird psychedelic sounds from the intricate instrument before switching back to his guitar. Before Slash knew what was happening he was butt naked and playing a duet of various TV and movie themes with Tracii. They took turns riffing and supporting each other. Locking in they interwove their sounds, seamlessly finding the next one. Slash was feeling alive again. To have another musician with the same level of dedication playing with his heart and soul rather than his body was heaven on Earth. He sometimes hated that Tracii wanted to play lead. If Tracii could only be a rhythm guitarist or better yet a bass player he and Slash could go far. That would never happen. They’d always go their separate ways as lead guitarists.

As the light turned to morning blue the musicians found themselves lying on top of each other passing a joint between them. Each was lost in their own utopia only an organic jam session could bring them.

“Is Izzy going to be pissed we jammed in the buff?” Slash asked though he wasn’t really concerned about it.

“Nah,” Tracii said and took a long toke. He then held it out to Slash. “We jam and do plenty of other fun things naked.”

“Do you lock in when you play with him?”

“When we fuck or jam?”

“Ja… well, both.”

“He’s really easy to jam with. It’s that cool I give zero fucks about you unless you love the music as much as me vibe. When he locks in with you musically, you’ll know it because it’s so fucking easy with him.”

Slash nodded as he took a deep hit. Slowly exhaling, he watched the blue vapors interweave with his curls. “And is he an easy lay?”

“Hey.” Tracii poked his side. “Are you trying to steal him from me?”

“Uh, no.”

“You better not even fucking try.” Tracii said with a hard glare. Slash’s eyes widened slightly, but relaxed when Tracii laughed. “I’m kidding you, man. I know you’re not into him. When we fuck it’s a little harder, but he’s generally easy. I might be the easy one there. I dunno. You’re asking a deeper question than if you just fall into pocket musically with someone.”

“How do you think being fuck buddies is easier than connecting with someone musically?”

“Because music is the purest art form that unites, whereas love is a fucked up roller coaster that can tear you up from the inside out, or take you to a higher astrological plane.” Tracii peered over at the guitarist when he felt Slash fall away from him. With a sympathetic smile, he curled himself around Slash’s body and held him. His hand slid down to Slash’s bare stomach and started stroking. Placing a soft kiss to his shoulder, Tracii whispered, “Don’t worry, Slasher. There are guys out there who want to make sweet fucking music with you on stage as well as under the sheets. You just got to find them.”

If not for the pot, Slash would have been more irritated at how wise and old Tracii sounded. Yet the blind faith that both he and Marc had in him was more than enough to help rekindle his desire to play music for his entire life. Snuggling back into Tracii’s warm arms, he smiled and let his mind drift to their jam session. It felt good playing with Tracii. It felt good freeing his body and soul to the rock ‘n roll gods once again. He’d offered himself up on their alter again and go for it harder and deeper than the last time. Slash was fully determined. Before he drifted off, he wondered who would find them like this, Izzy or Tracii’s parents. He wondered who concerned him more. He didn’t worry. He fell asleep, as did Tracii a few seconds after him.

…

Back at the scene of the end of Tidus Sloan, the bridesmaid moaned and buried herself deeper beneath the sheets. Steven wavered slightly from being sleep deprived. His dick ached from being used over and over, but it was a good happy ache. Rising to his feet, he stretched and scratched himself. He’d gotten a lot of that adrenaline out of his system. He wondered how Slash was fairing. He seemed thoroughly pissed but wasn’t sure why. It dawned on the drummer then that he didn’t get his share of the gig’s money. Well, he’d have to fix that.

Grabbing the bridesmaid’s purse, he dumped the contents onto the floor. He found her wallet and took out the cash she had. He then called the hotel and ordered room service, making sure to bill it to the room. He then proceeded to look through her jewelry, trying to figure out what he could pawn. When he came across the pearl earrings, he thought about giving them to Adrianna. He loved her and she would love these earrings. There was no way he’d be able to afford a gift like this for her for quite some time.

The girl was still out cold and barely moved when the bellboy knocked on the door. Steven didn’t tip him and the kid walked away rather pissed. Unfazed, Steven devoured his shrimp cocktail, steak and cheese omelet, a bagel, and some fruit. He capped off his feast with a bottle of champagne. He finally got dressed and promptly took the bottle of vodka he ordered to make in-room mimosas. He and Slash could drink that later, maybe while thinking of their next band move. He didn’t spare the girl another look and left her lying on the bed and left.

…

 

He couldn’t stay, but he couldn’t go home just yet. The suitcase was patched with Duct tape and tucked under his arm. There was nowhere to go and yet he found himself wandering away again. The streets all look the same. The faces were the same painted hellish ones he’d seen the night he got off the bus. A few were a bit friendlier. Maybe he was just willing himself to think they were. He continued on the unmarked path in search of him and of a new life. Bill just prayed if he found a new life it could some how be connected with him.

The sun was drooping in the sky and his feet were getting weary of supporting his weight. He’d need to find a place to sleep. The thought of asking one of the girls to take him home entertained his mind, but he quickly shut that out. Especially, when he saw the boyfriends or the bruises on their legs. He wasn’t sure where those came from but that borught too many memories to the surface for him. For now he’d just build his own nest somewhere in the darkness.

…

Steven gritted his teeth, fighting back the groans. It felt good, but wrong. He was being brought to the edge at a breakneck pace. The bricks were no longer cool, but they still pierced his skin. The rush felt hurried and dirty and not in the good way. It was too much, too hot, too distant and yet too there. His legs shook uncertainly without support from the hands that tightened on his hips. He fought the relex spasm of muscles to rock his body into the mouth as he felt the hardening command. It felt more like a punishment as it bruised his flesh.

Then mercifully, he felt all feelings drain from his body. Tears dripped from his eyes as he gasped and hung his head. He didn’t dare touch the strong shoulders that were within reach. He didn’t want to be anywhere near them or any other limb. His soul tried to break free but his body held him cemented to Earth, as did the hands that now eased away from the bruised and redden flesh.

The man stood and proceeded to count out the money, pausing only to grab a hold of Steven’s shoulder to prevent him from falling. He re-pocketed the money and stepped closer. A glimmer of fear showed over Steven’s flushed face. The man smiled in an odd way and he bit his lip. Still holding him against the bricks, he tugged Steven’s blue jeans up and secured them around his waist. Bending closer, he pressed a simple kiss to the corner of Steven’s mouth and whispered heatedly. “Don’t ever change, pretty boy.”

He eased Steven down to the ground. Crouching slightly, he tucked the wad of cash into Steven’s jeans pocket. His fingers strayed longer than needed. To Steven’s relief they left along with those haunting eyes.

Steven sat stunned for a little bit, trying to find the abyss to lose him in its shadowy depths. Slowly, his true life force started to ignite within his body and wake him from that secret place he hid when he did this sort of thing. Rolling over on his knees, he cupped some water from a puddle and splashed it on his face. He shut his eyes, inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. Within minutes he was on his feet and walking out of the alley occasionally fingering the sum of money bluging in his pocket. At least he could afford to eat and maybe a bed for a bit or at least until his mom let him back into the house. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to sell himself this time around.

A lone line of flesh and blood red hair caught his eye. Shuffling back a couple steps, he moved closer to the curled form. It was a skinny boy lying beneath the street lamp. Curious, Steven tilted his head and stuck his face closer. The face looked rather angelic despite the tightly shut eyes that caused soft cracks to form over the porcelain skin. Steven had a feeling that this kid wasn’t from around here. The sun hadn’t begun to burn him alive as it had Steven nor did he seem jaded.

Green eyes shot open and the red haired boy bolted backwards. Fire burned from behind the round childlike eyes. “What the fuck is your problem!”

Steven blinked in surprise.

“Get the hell away from me, faggot!” The boy took off running, leaving Steven stunned and wondering behind.

Steven didn’t swing that way. Granted, it was a natural occurrence to call someone that regardless, but still it made Steven wonder and feel dirtier. He needed to get off the streets and hide himself from the city’s gruesome underbelly. Briefly he wondered if Tracii would let him crash with him. Of course he would. Tracii would let his worst enemy stay at his house. He had the biggest heart in the world, but also a very short attention span and could hold a grudge like no one else.

 _So maybe he really wouldn’t let me stay?_ Steven wondered. With a sigh, he let the attempts of figuring out Tracii fade from his head. He wouldn’t even want to stay at Tracii’s if he and Izzy were still fucking. There was no way Steven was going to fall asleep to the sounds of Tracii moaning in ecstasy. With one final wonder at the red headed boy, Steven continued in search of a friendly face and a warm bed.

…

Tracii walked out of Walmart as he took a slug off his coke. The cold soda felt good sliding down his throat after losing half his body weight in sweat during the early night’s gig. He’d have a great story to tell Slash when they walked to school in the morning. That was in about four hours. He knew he should have bought a cinnamon roll. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day after all.

Readjusting his guitar case on his back, he continued to walk but stopped when he felt an odd electric spark prickle over his skin. Turning, he found a pair of soft green eyes staring back at him from beneath the shroud of the harsh yellow light. The look was hopeful if not a bit yearning, which puzzled Tracii. He’d never seen that face before. If he had he knew he’d remember it.

The boy staring at him looked like a cherub. Shimmering red hair that was framed in a soft halo of goldenrod. His skin looked soft, almost translucent, yet seemed to be starting to tarnish in the evil glare of the streetlight. He perched on his knees in a makeshift nest of a snakeskin suitcase and a couple articles of clothing. He reminded Tracii of a small cardinal wanting to fly away yet being tethered to Earth not allowed just yet allowed to soar to the clouds.

Tracii walked slowly toward him and the red head’s balance faltered. His small mouth dropped open. Tracii swore he heard the tiniest of gasps escape his parting lips. He looked positively beautiful despite his surroundings.

“Hi there. How are you?” Tracii asked with a small wave and a warm smile. Then the cherub morphed into a defensive demon.

“Stay the fuck away from me!” The boy screamed. Snatching up his things, he took off into the dark night.

“Hey, wait! Do you need a place to…” Tracii’s voice died as he watched the last glimmer of red fade. Even without the weight of his guitar there was no guarantee that if Tracii went after him he’d be able to find the boy in the L.A. labyrinth. He sighed sadly. He wondered if the kid was homeless. He looked so much like Izzy had when he first came to L.A. Scared and out of place. The difference was Izzy was determined that this is where he wanted to be. Even though he’d reacted similarly to the red haired boy, Izzy didn’t run. He ran in different ways. With one more searching look of the great expanse Tracii left the Walmart parking lot and headed to the bar where he was supposed to meet Izzy for a late night fuck. That was the only reason he left the after party and his band behind.

…

Bill brought his knees close to his chest, shaking slightly. Perched atop a fire escape of the Troubador, he rocked back and forth to soothe his fear filled body. Oddly enough the people coming and going below never looked up. He was nothing but a gargoyle on his perch. He liked Duff but something told him he needed to get out of there. He couldn’t just stay in that apartment and not look for Jeff. He had to find him and he couldn’t do that if that long legged blue haired punk with the warm, friendly, sweet voice, and surprisingly extensive vocabulary that was littered with a few French words was there to distract him.

No. He had to find Jeff. He’d been hopping from parking lot to parking lot, searching for a safe place to sleep and not be harassed. It had been okay, except for this night. The first kid had to have been a hooker. He reaked of sex and looked like he was stroking himself as he walked. _Fucking gross bitch._ Bill had dared to hope the second boy was Jeff who had come out of the dark forest to find him and bring him home. He looked so much like him. Seeing the guitar neck, made Bill remembered that time Jeff ogled the one in the guitar shop window. But alas, when the boy opened his mouth Bill knew it wasn’t him.

He’d find him. Bill was sure of that. Jeff seemed sure they would at least see each other again. Bill wondered why Jeff hadn’t found him yet. Jeff always found him. He was here wasn’t he? He hadn’t moved again, had he? No. Jeff wouldn’t do that to him. He told him where he was headed. L.A. No matter where Bill had hid back home, and he had many hiding places, Jeff always could sense where he was. Why was L.A. any different?

For now, Bill supposed he should take a short nap before he got to witness another sunrise. Funny. Since coming out to California, he’d seen more sunrises than he ever did back home. He forced his mind to focus on Jeff to try to ease the tension in his body and recharge.

…

Tracii walked up to the run down shack that Izzy called his apartment. He knew that Izzy’s newer line of business was why he moved out of Tracii’s house. Again. Tracii just didn’t understand why he couldn’t move in with him. His parents wouldn’t object. They just wouldn’t know exactly where they lived. Izzy refused and promptly changed the subject several times.

He stepped around the giant hole in the yard and made his way to the front door. Laughing to himself, he remembered when Izzy made sure he knew to use the _front door_. Tracii wasn’t dumb. He knew why, but it still made him chuckle a bit. He tried the doorbell. It didn’t move, so he knocked. Nothing. He knocked louder. This time he heard a quick scuffling and a muted bang. Before Tracii could even blink a hand materialized from the open door, pulled him inside and into the waiting arms of Izzy.

Warm sensual lips came down over his as he was pressed tightly to the solid torso. Tracii moaned, wiggling around to free his arms to return the embrace, but Izzy continued to kiss and hold him tight. The younger gave up and wrapped his arms around Izzy’s waist. Cheekily, he sneaked his hands down and squeezed Izzy’s ass. For the first time since he started kissing him, Tracii was allowed a reprieve for air. His lips pulled back into a smirk as he heard Izzy moan above him and felt his hips jolt into his.

“God, I missed you, pretty,” Izzy sighed as he laid his forehead against Tracii’s.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” Tracii chided playfully as he continued to finger Izzy’s ass. “Actually, I’m not convinced at all.”

Tracii gave a yelp as Izzy hoisted him up onto his hips. Pushing aside Tracii’s shirt, he sucked on his ribs as he carried him to another room. Tracii cradled Izzy’s head threading through the dirty blue-black hair. Looking down, he saw Izzy’s mouth work his skin to a wet purple glow. Both the pleasure and the sight drew a long heated moan from Tracii’s lips. Still in his lustful haze, he felt himself becoming airborne as Izzy laid him out on the bed.

Tracii tried to sit up as he said, “I…” Izzy pushed him back down to the bed. Tracii bent a knee to get some leverage, but found it captured by Izzy’s questing fingers and ravenous lips were sucking along the soft niche of his side. “My gig went well…” Tracii sighed as Izzy’s mouth had found his neck, which he was kissing passionately. The ferocity left him in a euphoric haze as he felt Izzy’s hand dip lower to rub against his clothed erection.

“Did it?” Izzy asked against his skin as he brought his second hand into play. Fingering the button and zipper of Tracii’s jeans. Once he had parted Tracii’s fly, he said in a clear but still lustful voice, “Tell me about it.”

“How can I… oh! Oh, uh… Now I see.” Tracii exhaled as his head tipped back and he moaned louder. Izzy’s mouth was kissing the newly exposed skin. His lips were teasingly close but not touching were Tracii really wanted those lips to be. It was making him hotter than hell as he watched Izzy spend so much time awakening the desire and adrenaline within him.

“Tell me,” Izzy moaned encouragingly as his fingers danced up Tracii’s ribs. Tracii didn’t remember Izzy removing his shirt but he didn’t care. He loved being naked, even loved it more when he had Izzy between his naked thighs.

“It was a good turnout for a backyard party. They paid well too. Oh fuck, yes!” Tracii’s hips shot up as he felt Izzy’s tongue slide deeper beneath him and lick the place where his torso and leg connected. Izzy brought him back down and continued to tease his tender groin. He shot him a curt look, indicating he wanted to hear more. “They… uh… oh shit… The crowd seemed to like us.”

“How did they react to you?”

“One of the girls tried to pull my pants off,” Tracii said as his eyes slid shut.

“What?” Izzy pulled back, leaving Tracii feeling cold.

“Tiger, I didn’t let her. I _wouldn’t_ let her. I _don’t_ want her. I’m _yours_ ,” Tracii promised quickly. He reached up and placed several kisses on Izzy’s jaw before taking his lips in a hot kiss. “Please don’t worry. There’s nothing to worry about. I came home to you like I always do. Why are you getting more and more jealous lately?”

Izzy sat back on his heels, despite Tracii scooting closer to find the warmth between their bodies. He was lost in thought to Tracii’s words. It was true he had been getting more and more jealous lately. He used to smile at how many people fawned over Tracii especially singers looking for a band. The beauty had a habit of attracting some highly talented vocalists. Izzy loved watching Tracii flirt because he knew the boy would always come home with him no matter what. They’d even been okay with letting the other have a night of fun with other people both together as well as on their own, but Tracii would always be back in his bed snuggled in his arms before the sun rose. So why now all of a sudden? Why after that night when he was at the bus stop did he…

“Please,” Tracii begged. He wrapped his legs around Izzy’s waist and nudged him closer. He licked Izzy’s kiss stained lips before continuing, “Because every time I touched my guitar tonight, and every note I pulled out of it, all I could think about was you and how good you make me feel.”

Izzy gave a short laugh as he shook his head. Tracii had a natural habit of helping Izzy’s thoughts dissipate. “You and I both know that when we play we don’t think about people. It’s just the music.”

“Well… it sounded like the romantic thing to say in that moment,” Tracii said slyly as he fell onto his back. He threw his arms over his face in mock despair.

Izzy laughed again and pulled Tracii’s jeans off him. Tracii smiled, chuckling softly as tickling fingers walked over the outside of his hips. Slipping a hand between Tracii’s thighs Izzy spread them open. “Tell me what you played and how.”

“It was good. I played Aerosmith and some Led Zep. I played your favorite so… oh, shit! Izzy I can’t do this…”

Izzy tilted his head to the side. A closed lipped smile that dripped with sexual lust was on his face. “Sure you can. You’re going to talk until all you can do is cum for me, pretty. Now continue.”

“We were good… oh, like that.” Izzy’s mouth was working wonders below Tracii’s belly button and his fingers titillated his nipples. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. “I think we might need to get a tighter… oh god! Izzy! Mm, fuck you…” He felt like Izzy was consuming all of him in an indescribable heat and not just from his mouth encapsulating his pulsing cock.

“Maybe next time,” Izzy whispered hotly against Tracii’s wet flesh. Without another word, Izzy focused purely on drawing out Tracii’s release into utopia. The younger was thrashing beneath him, stomach undulating, hips rocking, voice crying out, and thighs clenching around Izzy’s broad shoulders until he felt himself explode in Izzy’s mouth. The guitarist expertly sucked him long after his orgasm had ended. Tracii whimpered happily as he felt Izzy tease each aftershock into an even more intense peak of pleasure with every stroke of his tongue or press of his lips.

Feeling boneless on the bed, he welcomed Izzy’s warm body as his blanket and anchor. He tugged at Izzy’s shirt that had gotten bunched up around his shoulders in the throes of passion, until Izzy obligingly removed it. Now Izzy lay against him, warm bare chests touching his like a shield from the seedy nightlife that lay beyond the wooden door. Yet all Tracii could think about was playing his guitar, and Izzy making love to him all over again. His eyelashes fell to his cheek.

“Hey.” Izzy tugged on a lock of Tracii’s hair. He opened his eyes to find a wide-awake musician gazing at him. He slowly blinked as Izzy ran soothing fingers over his temple. “I have a gig next week with my new band. They’re called The Atoms or some shit like that. Will you come with me?”

“Depends,” Tracii said, “do they dress up like women like your band Naughty Women?”

“No.”

“Then nope!”

“What!”

Before Izzy could say more, Tracii kissed him into silence. “I’m just kidding, tiger. I’d love to go with you. I’ll throw you my underwear.”

“You don’t wear underwear,” Izzy replied with a smile.

“Oh, you’re right. Well, I’ll just throw my pants at you. It’ll be easier to have sex after the show that way.”

Izzy laughed as he snuggled against Tracii. He pulled the wiry guitarist into his body and rolled them slightly off to the side. He wanted Tracii to sleep well and not be squished.

…

“So he went down on you _and_ fucked you?” Slash asked suddenly.

Tracii laughed and shifted his backpack. “Seriously, man? That’s what you got out of that whole conversation? Nothing about how awesome our band was at the party?”

“They were pretty awesome,” Marc added. “I got some great shots. You should come over and check them out after school.”

“Nice! Thanks, Canter.” Tracii gave him a high five.

“You lamented on the sex a fucking lot,” Steven pointed out, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No one asked you, virgin,” Tracii said.

“Fuck you, Tracii!” Steven flipped him the bird as he skated ahead of the group.

“Slash, man, you’re seriously distracted. You’re usually at least following me when I’m talking about sex. _Sometimes_ you pay attention to my stories about gigs. Penny for your thoughts.” Tracii turned out his pockets. “Wish I had one. Can you spot me?”

“Uh, sorry. I’m trying to figure out if this ad sounds good or not.”

Tracii snatched the paper and Marc looked over his shoulder. “Seems straight forward. What? Are you worried that bass players are too dumb to figure this out? Hey! You should ask Steven to see if he knows what this ad is for.”

“Joke’s on you slut. I helped him write it!”

“Oh shit. Slash! This means the bass players won’t even be able to understand this level of stupidity.”

“Would you two knock it off?” Marc cut in before they could continue their fight. He turned to Slash. “Look man, it’s a good ad. It clearly says what you’re looking for, what kind of sound you’re going for and contact info. What more do you want in it?”

“I just want to find the right guys. Tidus Sloan is over. Those guys didn’t want to put in the work and it fucking sucks.”

“Slash, you…”

“Tracii shut up!” Marc interrupted. He put an arm around Slash’s shoulders. “Something big is happening, dude. I know it. I can feel it. I’ve told you I believe this and I know you believe this. So just have a little faith. You’ll find the right guys and it will all work out, all right?”

“Thanks, Marc,” Slash said with a smile.

Marc sighed. “And now you’re trying to ask me something else, so let’s cut the usual song and dance.” He pulled out a couple bills. “Here’s the money you’ll need for that ad.”

“You sure you don’t want to join the band?” Slash asked as his smiled expanded and warmed.

“I’m not one for the stage,” Marc replied.

“I’ll pay you back!”

“I’m not worried. I know you will.”

As the group neared school their conversation transitioned into what classes or exams they were dreading the most. They were due to splinter as soon as they entered the doors to go to their respective first periods, so Tracii quickly caught Steven’s arm.

“Why didn’t you come to my place?”

“What? When? Why?” Steven spluttered.

“This weekend when your mom kicked you out.”

“I didn’t need you to take me in like a charity case.”

“It’s not charity and I wouldn’t trade sex for a bed or food.”

Steven’s eyes narrowed. “How the fuck did you…”

“I wasn’t stalking. I just saw one night,” Tracii said quickly in a hushed voice. “You can always crash at my place free of charge _and_ services, okay?” Not waiting for a reply, Tracii disappeared into the throng of kids leaving a confused Steven behind. He didn’t know what to make of that idiot. Another hand grabbed his arm.

“Hey, Steve, come on!” Slash said and pulled him away.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t feel like taking that dumb quiz today, so let’s go get our ad in The Recycler and then jam out at my house. Mom’s across town and Grandma’s visitng a friend this week.”

Steven’s eyes lit up. “Hell yeah!”

…

Duff lay on the bench defeated. The warm air brushed his skin tenderly, but did little to lift his spirits. An unlit cigarette barely held by his lazed lips, he stared off into nothing and everything all at once. He had been out scouring for a gig, band members, and he even applied for another job. Somehow he managed to get a call back for another waiter position. _Lucky me,_ Duff thought. _I have the distinguished privilege of serving appetizers to distinguished patrons for minimum wage. Just what this fucking world needs, more fucks to serve the already privileged fucks. Dream come fucking true._ Shifting further back into the harsh wood, he exhaled around his cigarette.

He wanted to hear Bill sing or at the very least come back home. He was starting to worry about him. The kid had been gone for quite a while and he had no idea where he went. One day he was at his apartment the next he wasn’t.

Duff often found himself at his various odd jobs daydreaming about hearing Bill sing. Not just the occasional notes he could hear from the shower, but a full belted out song. He could tell the kid had talent, but something seemed to be holding him back. Duff wasn’t sure what and he didn’t feel right prying into it. Duff wondered if his hugs and brotherly nature scared him off. Maybe Duff was coming off that he was attracted to Bill. Sure he was aesthetically pleasing, but Duff thought of him more as a brother and less like a potential love interest. Then again he did have that alabaster skin and red hair that set off his bright green eyes perfectly. His lips were nearly as red as his hair and looked like a pair of cherries he…

A random gust of wind rustled his Ramones t-shirt. He shielded his eyes from the sparse bits of sand and dust blowing up from the heated pavement. The afternoon sun intertwined with the whirling winds as the gentle caress became more of a vivacious nudge.

Once the wind slowed Duff rose to his feet and shook the sand out of his hair. He noticed a newspaper wrapped around his ankles. The Recycler was splayed across the front. Having nothing else to do, Duff thumbed through it to find the Want Ads. There were several ads looking for vocalists and musicians but the one that caught his eye was slightly smaller than the rest. It mentioned liking Aerosmith and Black Sabbath, and was signed by a guy named Slash. Duff smiled. _That’s gotta be the band I’m looking for. How fucking punk rock do you get with a name like Slash?_

Fishing in his pocket for a quarter, he trotted over to the nearest payphone and dialed the number. After a couple rings a groggy voice murmured, “Hello?”

“Hey. Can I speak to Slash? I’m Duff McKagan and I’m calling in reference to the ad he placed in The Recycler.”

“Oh yeah. That’s me. Yeah, we’re looking for a bass player.”

“I play bass and I’m a fan of Aerosmith too.”

“Yeah, cool. Well look, let’s meet up at Canter’s Deli next Saturday and you can meet Steven. We can talk then. Sound cool?”

“Definitely cool. What time?”

“Uh, how about four in the afternoon?”

“Yeah, okay. See you then!” Duff exclaimed and hung up the phone. A small sense of relief was coming over him. At least he had an audition to look forward too. This would get his mind off of Axl and his pointless job.

The walk home was filled with thoughts about Road Crew and Slash and Steven. What kind of punks were they? What was their sound like? Did they have a singer? What did they look like? All thoughts came to a dead stop when he turned down his hallway.

“Bill?”

The red head looked up from his crouched position. Duff took a step back when he noticed Bill flinch slightly. It made him want to comfort him, but at the same time he wasn’t sure if that was the right reaction.

“H-hey, Duff. What’s going on?”

“Bill. What are you doing here?”

“Uh.” Bill put his hands on his knees. “Yeah. Sorry. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here. I’m going to go.”

“No, don’t,” Duff said and took a wide step to block the hallway. “I didn’t mean it that way. I was just… I didn’t know where you went and I was worried.”

“I… uh, yeah. I didn’t mean to,” Bill offered as an apology.

“It’s okay,” Duff said quickly and smiled a little. “So are you back to stay?”

“If you’ll have me. I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not!” Duff exclaimed, his happiness from the day’s events was overflowing. “I’m glad that you’re back! I missed the sound of another person breathing and you’re a great roommate. Come on! Let’s go ins…”

As Duff took hold of the doorknob, skinny, but strong arms circled around Duff’s waist. He looked down to find the red head wrapped around him. Duff smiled and laced his arms around Bill’s shoulders. He was glad to have him back. Even if he didn’t know why or where he went. He was at least glad Bill came back home to him. One thought still lingered in the tangles of his mind. Was he falling for Bill? Or was it just his innocence? His earnestness and his desire to do… well, Duff didn’t know what yet, but he knew he wanted something. He could feel Bill yearning to find or discover something. He just wasn’t sure what that was yet. Duff felt Bill was also fighting the internal struggle of deciding whom it was okay to love and fuck. Pushing all of these dark thoughts from his mind, he ushered Bill back into the sanctuary of his or now their apartment.

…

Izzy windmilled his arm as he wailed on his guitar, pausing his motion in mid flight as if he were posing for a picture. For the first time in a long while, he felt alive musically. His lips pursed and his body pulsated as he drew out the riff from his guitar. He yanked the neck up, standing it upright on his knee and fingering down the fret board. It wailed and shuddered between his legs. Inaudibly he gasped as his eyes felt shut and let the feeling wash over him. He didn’t pay much attention to his band mates. He was lost to his own world and his own guitar throbbing at his crotch. It felt almost as good as sex. He couldn’t hold back and he jumped into the air landing in a practiced knee slide that sent him gliding to the other end of the stage. Raising his guitar over his head, he continued playing, never missing a note.

Though he barely heard his singer, he could hear the shouts and whistles coming from Tracii at the base of the stage. The kid was half naked, showing up in only a pair of shorts and his hair had the subtle scent of seawater. It was intoxicating just looking at the California kid when he was clothed, now Izzy had to contend with focusing on his guitar as much as the bare flesh presented to him.

The song ended and Izzy flicked another cigarette to light. Tracii and a couple people cheered. Not counting Tracii, the band’s girlfriends, and the bartender, Izzy counted about fifteen people. Of those fifteen, only three seemed to care or pay attention. Izzy wanted to tell them to all go fuck themselves. Instead, he gestured for a louder applause. That did little to encourage them. The singer spoke about things as Izzy puffed harder on his cigarette, stealing sexually charged toothy grins at Tracii and softly strumming his guitar until the next song would start.

Just before his intro he climbed to the top of the raised platform and jumped. Landing on splayed legs, he bent forward and riffed hard on his guitar. It wailed between his legs, throbbing beneath his touch, building the cadence of the heated melody he sent it it sky rocketing to the ceiling. It was exploding with intensity as Izzy arched his back and thrust his hips forward, yet the crowd remained unresponsive.

It was then a stray black string panty was thrown at Izzy’s feet. He glanced down to find Tracii throwing him the devil horns. His shorts had slipped lower down his hips to show he was naked underneath. With a dog-eat-dog smile and a quick saunter of the stage, Izzy grabbed Tracii’s hand and pulled him onto the stage. The other stumbled slightly, but Izzy caught him. Turning him around, he faced him to the crowd and slid his guitar over his shoulders. Tracii glanced back, watching Izzy’s arms go around him. He pushed Tracii’s hands onto the strings encouraging him to play. Tracii picked up the familiar riff effortlessly, but faltered when he felt Izzy’s hands massage his hips and try to sneak down into his pants. A mix of profanities and wolf whistles sounded from the audience as Izzy’s mouth sucked Tracii’s neck.

Still playing, the guitarist turned his head only to have his lips captured in a heated kiss. Shocked, his hands fell away and he reached up to grab Izzy’s hair as well and angled his body better. Izzy continued to deepen the kiss as he took up the guitar playing. The intensity of the kiss shot through his senses and coursed through him, finding their outlet in Izzy’s skills fingers. They continued like this throughout the entire song, Tracii pushing into his mouth and pulling his hair and Izzy shredding on the guitar. He was using the sexual intensity to not only get attention for his band but to also fuel his guitar playing. It was perfect until the band stopped playing and Izzy had an earful of an irate vocalist.

An angry hand ripped Tracii from his side. Anger flared in Izzy as he saw the singer doing this and berating Tracii for being a slut and a fag. Izzy moved between them, breaking the singer’s hold and then delivering a hard blow to the side of his head. Instinctively, he moved Tracii behind him and glared the rest of the band down. None moved. All too stunned to do much of anything. The singer staggered to his feet, pointing an accusing finger at the pair.

“The fuck do you get off throwing your shit in everyone’s face! You’re out of this fucking band. Take your fucking whore and get out!”

All Izzy could see was red. Pulling his guitar off his shoulder, he swung it down hard. The singer went down with one blow. The rest of the band was too stunned to intervene as the fuming guitarist moved in for the kill. Izzy didn’t feel Tracii’s protests to stop. He didn’t hear the whoops and hollers for a fight around him. All he saw was a singer that needed to be put in his place. Grabbing him by his hair, he pulled him close.

“You don’t ever call him that. You see all these people staring at us? That’s because of me. Me and him. Not you. You can’t carry a fucking note or work the crowd to save your life. I fucking quit this shitty ass band. I should have quit a long time ago. Never talk to me, _or him,_ again or I’ll collect your nuts and shove them down your throat, you fucking got that?” He gave the singer a hard shake. The other man nodded weakly, gasping for breath. Satisfied, Izzy dropped him and took Tracii’s hand leading him away from the stage.

Tracii followed him wordlessly to his car and got in the passenger’s seat. He was slightly baffled by the intensity of Izzy’s reaction, not just the fight, but also the over the top public display of affection on the stage. Tracii enjoyed the latter a lot, but it was so different from the Izzy he knew. It was both exciting and scary to see the amount of rage in Izzy’s actions. He wondered vaguely if he should lean over and blow Izzy while he drove. That would be hot. A sharp turn eradicated any thought as the car balanced on one side of tires and fell back to the pavement with a loud thud. Izzy had always been a speed demon, but tonight he was like a bat out of hell. Tracii bit his lip and glanced out the window at the streams of light burning past them in their wake.

Finally Izzy skidded to a halt outside. His knuckles continued to blaze white as he clenched the steering wheel in a death grip. He didn’t look at Tracii, yet the younger boy didn’t seem worried, only concerned. Tracii remembered the gig Izzy had with Naughty Women when the crowd attacked them. Izzy didn’t have the same fight in him then. He’d only grabbed a cymbal and defended himself, but he didn’t throw the first punch like tonight. Tracii also hadn’t been attacked that night either. He remembered treating a cut on the side of Izzy’s head that he got from a rogue mic stand that night. Tracii knew what to do then. Now Tracii wasn’t sure what to do. Izzy’s shoulders dropped slightly as he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

“I’m fucking sorry,” Izzy mumbled softly into his hands. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Tracii. “I’m so fucking sorry I lost it back there. I just couldn’t stand the way he talked about you. I can’t stand that none of those fuckwads take the time to practice and get better so we can actually get signed. I want it. Not the fame, but I want the money. I want to make music. I want…”

Tracii was kissing him, easing himself into Izzy’s lap. He shushed him between kisses and smmothed his damp hair away from his face. The tension was slowly leaking from Izzy’s body as he gave himself over to his younger lover. Izzy moaned as he felt the guitarist’s skilled fingers find his nipple, teasing and massaging it to a harden tip. His body was fueling up again, but this time it was with passion and zeal rather than blind rage.

Izzy’s eyes opened as he felt Tracii’s mouth leave his and descend down his torso. Cupping the boy’s chin, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Getting you off,” Tracii replied, looking slightly perplexed.

“No,” Izzy said. “Will you fuck me?”

“What?” Tracii gaped slightly. He had fucked Izzy before, but it was rare that the guitarist asked him in such a way.

“Please, Tracii. Please fuck me,” Izzy begged, curling his fingers around his jaw. “I need you. I want to feel you inside me.”

Tracii rose up on his knees and stretched out his body. Balancing his hands on the car seat, he whispered, “Of course. Anything for you, darling.” He kissed Izzy as his hands roamed his torso, swirling both nipples sensually before traversing down to the tops of his jeans. Izzy continued to kiss and arched his back to slide his vest off his aroused chest. Reaching forward, Tracii grabbed the lever and then pushed against Izzy to move the seat back. He then slouched down to open Izzy’s pants. Izzy whimpered, wanting to feel Tracii’s lips, put the younger just continued to tug. Twisting awkwardly around, the pair wrestled Izzy free of the denim, chuckling softly as Izzy fell against the door. The thud was worse than any pain Izzy felt. Regardless, Tracii rubbed his hips soothingly and Izzy opened himself up to him.

Holding him by his hips, Tracii guided the newly naked Izzy back into the driver’s seat and settled between his splayed legs. He stretched himself up and over Izzy’s body and pushed his head against his chest. Izzy moaned as he felt Tracii’s tongue slid around his nipples. Tracii smiled and caressed Izzy’s thighs in a similar slow teasing motion. With his other hand, he held Izzy’s head in place while the other scooped under his ass to bring him closer to the right position for Tracii to take him.

Izzy was bending and twisting in desire for Tracii to touch him deeper. He took command of Izzy’s wild leg and tucked it over his shoulder to further bend Izzy to him. With his free hand, Tracii brushed and stroked over Izzy’s ass hanging out in the breeze, drawing closer and closer to their mutual goal. Tracii was moving faster than he usually did because he knew Izzy was impatient. He’d still stretch him slowly. He was just cutting down on the amount of foreplay. From the evident hard-on pressing into Tracii’s torso, that didn’t seem to bother Izzy at all.

Before entering him, Tracii ran his fingers back up the full length of Izzy’s spine, collecting the many beads of sweat. Izzy shuddered and gritted his teeth as he felt Tracii’s warm fingers lower to his ass and slip between his quivering cheeks.

“Relax, tiger,” he purred softly, gently working his fingers deeper inside of him. “I got you.”

Izzy relaxed as Tracii stroked his hair, encouraging him to continue ravishing his chest, as his finger took good care of the rest of his body. They didn’t force their way in, only coaxing themselves to be accepted deeper. He wanted Izzy to draw him in as much as enter him. Izzy moaned, practically whining, as he was eased open with titillating touches that continued even after Tracii’s fingers were buried deep in his ass. The sweat slicked and slightly rough fingertips brushed his inner walls sensitively earning a low keen from Izzy as he started to rock against Tracii’s hand. He buried his face in Tracii’s neck.

“Don’t hide,” Tracii chided with a soft kiss to his cheek. “You know it only gets better and I want to see you when you cum.”

He withdrew his fingers as he rose to knees. In the same motion, he slid himself inside. Izzy barely reacted due to the stealth in which Tracii did it. He grabbed Tracii’s arm when he got to deep. The younger paused and pushed the wet hair from Izzy’s face.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” Placing a hand on Izzy’s bent knee he asked. “Do you want me?”

“Yes. Please. I need you!” Izzy whined.

Tracii’s cock stirred at the declaration. Gripping Izzy’s thighs, his hips began to rock. Izzy moaned and thrashed as he felt the pounding heat pool from within his body. It was taking him to the edge drawing him closer and closer to the heavenly escape that Tracii could always send him to. He was begging almost sobbing as he watched the other move against his hips skillfully drawing out the touch and revving up when he felt Izzy wanted a harder touch and slowing down to make Izzy’s head numb with pleasure.

He swore and begged for more as his orgasm built in the core of his belly. Tracii whispered compliments on his body and his love for him as he encapsulated Izzy’s cock in his hand. With each thrust, he gave a twist of his wrist eliciting an even harder groan from his beautiful lover. With a loud cry Izzy came, coating both of them in white. He was practically in tears as he fell back into his body. Tracii was sweating and panting above him with his arms now braced against the headrest. Looking down at the silent tears streaming down Izzy’ face. Cupping a hand to his cheek, Tracii asked, “Did I hurt you, baby?”

Izzy shook his head and took Tracii’s hand in his. He went to remove it, but couldn’t find the strength. Instead he tried to hide his tears in the tattooed fingers. Tracii frowned softly, but whispered soothing words as he eased himself out of him. Taking him in his arms, he kissed Izzy’s head, stroking his back and just holding him. So many emotions were being plucked from his boyfriend and he wasn’t sure what the cause was but he would be there for Izzy. He would be there whenever he was ready to talk.

 

…

The sun blazed as hot as the fresh coat of blue dye that covered Duff’s spiked hair. His black trench swirled around his combat boots as he strutted down The Strip to his first audition of the day. His dayglo blue hair shined in the sun and he thought he looked fucking hot on his way to audition for a punk band. Inside he was sweating from the heat, but it was worth it. The guy’s name was Slash, which excited Duff because he figured it meant the guy was a punk. He sucked a drag off his cigarette and exhaled without moving it away from his mouth as he turned the corner toward Canter’s Deli.

Walking in, he spotted two guys and two girls lounging on one side of a booth in the corner. Bottles of Cokes were on the tabletop. It was the booth Slash had told him they’d be sitting at. They weren’t the punks he was anticipating meeting, but more the traditional L.A. rockers with their rock goddesses beside them. Duff caught himself before he licked his lips, because the one with the wild curls, frayed jeans, full lips, and dark chocolate skin was really cute. If Duff let himself think it, he thought that guy was hot as fuck. He was already turning Duff on and he hadn’t even heard him play.

The blonde sitting across from him wasn’t able to sit still for more than three seconds. He fidgeted and squirmed in his seat. When he talked he was loud and animated with gestures and tonality. He wore a Kiss t-shirt that he had made into a V-neck that showed off his thick mass of chest hair. His hair was teased and messy, and had an easy-happy-go-lucky smile. It made Duff smile and help him gather his wits. Trying not to think of just how cute the other guy looked, he walked over to the table.

“Hi. I’m Duff. Are you the band Road Crew?”

The dark haired kid looked up at him and his mouth fell open. Duff had to bite his tongue to keep his own in his mouth as well.

“That’s us!” The blonde exclaimed, breaking the tension. Shoving out a hand, he said, “I’m Steven and the mute over here is Saul.”

Duff shook Steven’s hand, but looked at the other one. “Saul?”

“Oh, uh, yeah that’s my birth name,” Saul explained with a bashful smile. “But you can call me Slash. H-have a seat”

“Okay,” Duff said and pulled up a chair. He sat backwards on it as he looked between the two.

The blonde girl leaned over the table. Duff frowned slightly when he saw the really expensive looking pair of pearl earrings she wore, but her question jarred him even more. “Are you gay?”

“What?” Duff asked a bit shocked at her straightforwardness.

“Are you gay?” She repeated. “You have short hair. I think you’re gay.”

“Adrianna, don’t ask him that,” Steven interjected.

“Why not?” Adrianna asked, turning back to Steven. “I want to know if I need to find him a boyfriend or a girlfriend.”

“How do you know he doesn’t already have one?”

“I know these things and if you keep asking me these needless questions I’m going to go find a new one myself,” she retorted.

“Oh, no you won’t,” Steven said and kissed her before she could fire something back.

Slash and the other girl laughed, but Duff watched Slash closely. Secretly he wondered if that was a flicker of hopefulness in Slash’s eyes. Duff also wanted to just stare into those deep brown eyes. He’d pick any excuse to do it. He wondered if he was imagining the look of longing. Myabe it was his own feelings. He’d never fallen for anyone like this. Not this quickly at least.

“So hey, thanks for coming by,” Slash said. “We’re both between bands and we’re looking for someone who actually wants to make a living in music not just to get laid.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with that!” Steven chirped.

Duff grinned and nodded. “Yeah that’s what I’m looking for. Uh… The music that is.”

“Want some vodka?” Adrianna asked and pushed a seemingly innocent bottle under the table at Duff. He took a drink and tried to fight back the grimace as the cheap alcohol burned his throat on the way down. It was laced with more than just vodka.

“Behind you,” Marc said coming over with a tray. He placed bowls of bean-barley soup in front of each guy. He turned to look at Duff. “Marc Canter, friend of the band.”

“Nice to meet you, Marc. I’m Duff McKagan,” Duff replied and shook his hand.

“Duff plays bass,” Steven said excitedly while he spooned soup into his mouth. “We’re going to audition him and see if he fits.”

“I think he fits in just fine,” Slash hissed. He then bit the inside of his lip and stared at his soup, realizing he just said that out loud.

“Nice to meet you too, Duff,” Marc said, trying to deflect the awkwardness descending over the group. “I’m going to get back to my tables but have fun with these guys and let me know if I can get you any more food. My dad said it’s on the house today since you guys are working… sort of.”

The group fell into a discussion, albeit a drunken one, of favorite bands, the past groups they’ve been in, and what they want to get out of a band. Duff listened and enjoyed what he heard but something was nagging at him about the two. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew something wasn’t fully locked in just yet. Still, he wanted to give these guys a shot. He didn’t have anything better to do and he really wanted to get to know the shy introverted boy next to him. He talked at great lengths about music and his guitar, but otherwise didn’t say much and looked uncomfortable. Duff hoped he wasn’t making him uncomfortable.

The group agreed to have Duff jam with them at Slash’s house. Once outside the deli, Steven vaulted into the car with the girls and waved Duff to join them. Duff looked back at Slash who was pulling out his bike.

“Oh I need to get some things for my mom, so I’ll be a bit. Go on without…” As he started to swing his leg over, he lost his balance and fell forward. Strong hands caught him. Slash froze as he felt his head hit a firm chest. His body went rigid and he tucked his chin into his chest, looking at the ground. Fingertips beneath his chin titled his face up. Luscious honeyed hazel eyes met his with a long slightly pouted smile on sweet pink lips. Slash couldn’t breathe.

“Hang on to me,” Duff said and guided Slash’s hands around his chest. Securing him, he gracefully lifted Slash from the confines of his bike. As Slash was nearing freedom his jeans leg caught in the chain causing him to fall into Duff’s svelte chest again.

“Uh, sorry.” Slash mumbled barely above a whisper.

“You okay there?” Duff asked worriedly. His hands clasped Slash’s shoulders, eyes running all over Slash’s body for evidence of a cut or bruise. Slash blushed harder.

“Uh, I’m fine. Thanks.” Slash scratched his head, fingers catching in a knot of his hair. Inside, he berated his un-coolness.

Duff nodded and took a step back. Remembering earlier with Bill, he told Slash, “Sorry. I get over protective. Brother mentality, you know. I come from a big family.”

Slash’s smile and blush weakened a bit. Duff was perplexed, but tried to hide it.

“Hey! Blondie! Curly! Are you two coming or what?” Steven asked.

“I need to get stuff for my mom and you can’t fit my bike in there. Take Duff to my place and I’ll meet you,” Slash insisted.

“What’s your address again?” Steven asked.

“You don’t remember where I live?”

“Um. No?” Steven asked with a sheepish smile. “Hey, Adrianna? Do you have a piece of paper?”

Slash groaned as the two girls started scrounging around for a piece of paper. A cream colored forearm was presented to him. His eyes traveled up the arm to find Duff to be its owner. His black trench coat hung half off his body. Slash’s eyes flickered down as much as he dared, trying to analyze each plane of Duff’s body that was now on display. A pen was pushed into his hand by one of the girls.

“We might lose the paper anyway. I don’t plan on losing my arm any time soon, you know.”

Slash grinned his white teeth shining behind his plush lips that sprang up into a happy smile. He clasped Duff’s wrist as hard as he dared which was barely above a feather light touch. The soft tip of the pen glided over the supple flesh. Slash shook his hair into his face trying desperately to hide his elation at marking someone he was crushing on.

“Cool.” Duff grinned after studying his arm.

“Yay! Let’s go!”

Slash nodded and Duff smiled. He watched the long legged punk slide over the door of the convertible and settle himself beside one of the girls who instantly started chatting him up. Slash felt a pang of anger in his gut at the sight.

“Hurry up with your errands, Slash!” Steven cut into Slash’s angry thoughts.

“Looks like I don’t have to find tall, sunny, and blonde a boyfriend,”Adrianna said as they drove off.

“What are you talking about? I’m not gay!” Steven whined.

“I know you’re not,” she said with a sigh.

…

Bill felt so secure in Duff’s arms. He hadn’t felt that way since… well, a long long time ago. The embrace and the way Duff welcomed him back into his apartment with open arms and no demanding questions, made him feel strong and more confident. Although he still kept to himself mostly, he’d let Duff lie next to him and hold him. It was strange feeling so comfortable being touched and cared for by another person that he wasn’t related to. Granted, he didn’t feel comfortable around all of his relatives. Bill tried to push it out of his head and just enjoy the brotherly love he felt from Duff. On occasion he tried to return the love. Duff never seemed bothered if he didn’t which made Bill feel both better and worse. Every so often Bill felt his thoughts became less brotherly.

He’d locked some of his belongings in Duff’s closet to ensure he’d come back to this place and maybe it would take him longer to try and bolt again. Now, he was focusing on what he came out here for. He was going to find Jeff. He knew a couple of the roads and had at least heard his name whispered from time to time on the current of street. Even Duff was aware of him.

“Jeff, oh, you mean Izzy. Izzy from Indiana,” Duff said. “Yeah. He’s a bit reclusive and yet he seems to be everywhere at the same time. I’m not sure where he lives. He moves around a lot, but I’ll keep an eye and ear out for him for you.”

“Where was the last place you heard he was hanging out?”

“Some dive bar. I think he was playing a gig… that was years ago though. He’s not a drummer anymore.”

“He’s not?” Bill arched an eyebrow.

“He switched to guitar. I think he’s starting to write songs.”

Bill hummed and looked out the window. “I also put in an application for a job at Tower Video so I’ll start helping pay the rent.”

“Yeah? Cool,” Duff said, both proud and un-bothered by Bill’s lack of financial commitment. “So what can you tell me about Izzy? Like the real Izzy.”

“Are you interested in him?” Bill asked. His eyes narrowed slightly.

“I like his attitude. He’s got some punk roots that you don’t always find down here.” He put a cigarette in his lips. “Eh, maybe I just haven’t looked hard enough.” He lit the cigarette. “You play an instrument? We should start a band!”

“Don’t you have an audition with The Crew?”

“Hmm? Oh Road Crew. Yeah, but it got moved because Slash’s house lost power.”

“What kind of nut case names themselves Slash?” Bill mused. He fell silent and Duff let him sit there.

Duff had seen Bill do this many times in the few days he’d become a permanent resident in his apartment. There were days Bill got fidgety, but it wasn’t physical. It was mental, like his brain was running a mile a minute and his rational side couldn’t keep up. He looked equal parts pissed and scared out of his mind. Duff didn’t really know what to do for him, or if there was anything he could do, so he just stayed near him when he could, offering little lines here and there to make sure he didn’t fall to deep into himself. After the mood lifted, Bill would usually hug or just smile sweetly at him. To any other person it would look like he was a deranged psycho, but to Duff he knew it was this kid’s way of saying thank you.

One morning Duff woke up with a note taped to his chest. Squinting in the light, he read, “I owe you for the beer. B.” Duff bolted to the fridge and peered inside. Except for an expired bottle of ketchup there was nothing in it.

“Fucking asshole took my beer!” He exclaimed and slammed the refrigerator door shut.

…

Axl woke up to an orange sun. Duff’s apartment was smaller than he remembered it the other night, but it had a happy almost homey feel. _Like I know what that is,_ Axl scoffed. He yawned and stretched his arms before climbing to his unwilling feet. Quickly, he grabbed the note taped to the door.

Hey Ax,

I might have a lead on a band. And I also need to go to work to make some dough. See ya later. Help yourself to anything you find in the room.

I doubt there’s much around though, sorry.

-Duff

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Axl’s mouth as he laid it aside. Picking through the assortment of clothes and personal belongings, he found a half drunk bottle of vodka. Taking a measured swig, he immediately wished it was the good hard old Southern Whiskey or Bourbon he used to steal with…

Axl blinked. Last night was the first one he hadn’t dreamed of Jeff. The way the two had parted ways had bothered him greatly. Every night the dream was different. It was the same argument that led to him kicking Jeff out. Sometimes he tried to go after him. There was one time he had killed Jeff’s girlfriend. He swore he killed Jeff in one of them, but he wasn’t sure if he actually dreamed that. It didn’t matter, because he always woke up before he could see Jeff’s reaction or touch him. It drove Axl crazy.

Pushing the haunting recollections from his mind, he tied his Indiana sun streaked red hair back with a tattered black bandana. Abandoning the vodka to a pile of dirty clothes on the floor with a muted thud, he headed out the door. After several odd looks and people completely ignoring him, he found someone who could help.

“You’ll help me find him?” Bill asked as he passed the six-pack to the kid.

“Sure.” The kid looked more at the beer than at Bill. “He moved again, but I think he’s living over here now. Come on. We can ask around the boardwalk.”

Bill followed the half naked surf bum. He reminded him of Duff a little, maybe only the hair. Duff was tall with endless legs and bright hazel eyes that warmed Bill from the inside. Whoa. Bill needed to not think like that, especially about his roommate. And especially when it wasn’t…

“Ow, dude,” the surfer whined when Bill walked right into him. He laughed slightly when Bill crossed his arms in front of his chest and bowed his head. “Hey chill, bro. I didn’t put my break lights on. My bad.” He turned back to the other guy. “So yeah. Have you seen him around, dude?”

“Yeah. I think he lives over in those community houses down the boardwalk. Or he has a girl he’s staying with. Not sure.”

Bill cringed at the thought of Jeff having a girlfriend.

“For real? I thought he was into dudes.”

Bill’s face contorted into a pained grimace. He quickly looked away to aoivd any questions or dirty looks from the surfers. He thought, _what the hell has he been doing out here?_

“Maybe he switches. I dunno. We’re just trying to find him.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well check out that place, man. It seems like where he’d hang out.”

“Thanks, man. Catch you later.” The blonde surfer turned to Bill. “Come on, dude. Let’s motor.”

Bill followed, slowly easing around the other surfer not wanting to draw attention to him. The guy had dreads and a wide smile on his face. Bill tried to tell himself he was not being judged but he did little to convince himself. The breeze was warm on his skin as they moved into the direct blaze of the sun. He squinted at the run down apartment complex up ahead. It was a tall shanty with several windows that didn’t have screens or pains of glass, just colorful paintings or random t-shirts hung in the open space. The door was a large stable door with a latch. The surfer pulled it aside without needing a key, which made Bill wonder if Jeff lived here how safe he was with no locks.

The door opened to a long corridor striped with shafts of warm beach light. A thin layer of sand coated the floor along with a couple seashells and pebbles. Surfboards were lined along the hallway as well as towels and shoes. All the doors to the individual apartments were open. People came and went from room to room without a bother of whose place it belonged to. It was as much a shared space as it was a place for people on welfare. Bill clutched his arms and moved silently along, sneaking peaks of the occupants when he thought they weren’t looking. He was both fascinated as well as very uncomfortable. He descided to stay close to the easygoing surfer he hired with Duff’s beer.

Diligently, the surfer poked his head in each apartment and asked for the whereabouts or any info on Izzy from Indiana. Each time he came up empty, he thanked the occupants and flashed them the peace sign. Bill followed like an obedient shadow.

The surfer turned after another failed mission and pressed a small bag of green into his hand. “We’ve got all day to find him, man, but you know. Just in case,” he said.

Bill pocketed it with a nod of thanks, and continued to follow him through the piles of sand. He then realized the skunk smell wasn’t the animal, but the start of someone lighting up a Mary Jane stick. The seawater was starting to sting his eyes and burn his nostrils. He was beginning to lose hope. They were on the fifth floor and still no luck of finding Jeff. Slowly he was receeding from the world and into his safe place where he could hide from anything his mind could come up with. The one place his thoughts couldn’t get to him. It was empty since Jeff wasn’t around, but at least he could cry inside there. Absently, he walked into one room and saw a familiar red skateboard. He froze to the spot and didn’t move deeper into the room. The surfer edged around him and walked deeper into the apartment.

“Hey, friends!” The surfer called as he poked his head into each of the rooms. “We’re looking for Izzy from Indiana. Have you seen him around here?”

Several guys looked up, but one particular caught Bill’s attention and made his blood run hot and cold at the same time.

…


	4. One In A Million

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William’s body hung like a martyr propped against the playground jungle gym. He thrashed and twisted his upper body around fueled by the years of tumultuous rage and confusion despite the throbbing in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First book mark, yay! Thank you, TippyCupcakes!! I hope you continue to enjoy my story. And to everyone reading thank you for reading and the Kudos!! Feel free to drop me a note on what you think of the relationships. :) Ta!

Bill couldn’t move. He forgot to breathe as his eyes widened in shock. Sitting criss-cross in the center of the room was Jeff. His hair was longer, maybe a little stringier and had a weird colorcast to it. His frame was still the same wiry mesh of bones and muscle. His shirt dipped lower than he had dared back home and bared his perfect chest. A single necklace dangled down his supple sternum. A cigarette was cocked in his mouth like a gangster. A silver ring glittered on the side of one of his nostrils.

His jeans were still as tight as Bill remembered them to be. Bill had been thinking about him, searching for him, and now he had literally walked into Jeff’s room. It filled his heart with elation and he longed to embrace him, but his legs would not move. As weightless as he felt, his body was cemented to the floor.

“Hey bros,” said the hired surfer, effortlessly breaking the silence, “sorry for the intrusion! We, well, he’s looking for Izzy from Indiana.” He pointed a finger at Izzy and looked at Bill. “Looks like he’s right there.”

In a flash, Izzy bolted up and charged at Bill. With a hard shove, he threw him into the hallway. Bill’s arms and legs flailed as he was hurled backwards. His body twisted smoothly at the last minute. His head narrowly missed the wall as he crashed to the floor. The surfer came stumbling over his feet as Izzy dragged him out by his shoulder. It seemed some of the rage had evaporated from Izzy’s body.

Bill looked up only to see the door slam shut. The light went out and he found himself dejected on the floor in the only patch of darkness in the hall. His jaw fell slack and his eyes widened again, but this feeling of shock was quickly giving way to other feelings. His mind couldn’t catch up to his body’s reactions to rationalize what had happened and confused tears began building the rims of his eyelids. When he felt the warm prick of water touch his cheeks, he quickly ducked his head to hide his emotions from the surfer.

“Did you fuck his girlfriend or something, bro?” The surfer asked bewildered looking between Bill and the door.

Bill just rolled onto his knees. Sitting in front of the door, he stared as if trying to find an answer in the dead wood. What was wrong with Jeff that made him act that way toward him? Wasn’t he the one begging him to come out to California with him? Wasn’t he the one always smiling at him? Encouraging him to become something more than the fuck up he was born? Why did he just…

“I can keep the beer, right?” the surfer asked. “I held up my end of the bargain.”

“Yeah,” Bill said rising to his feet. “Take it easy, man.”

Without a glance or another word, he started down the hall and out of the building. His feet were taking him far away whether he really wanted to leave or not. Maybe, Jeff was finally done with him. A part, or voice of Bill’s told him it would just be a matter of time until it happened. He just didn’t want to think that it actually would. Crossing his arms in front of his body, he dug his nails in his arms and himself tighter.

The air was deceptively warm and gentle. Far off in the distance large grey clouds loomed in the outskirts of the horizon. He looked past the people lining the streets. He missed the streaks of white running down their noses. He didn’t see the bluest of eyes glow brown. He didn’t see the shakes and the sideways glances as jackets were entered and hands were touched. Billy didn’t notice any of this.

His steps became to labor to continue walking so, Bill slid into an alley. Finding the bricks, he laid his tense back against it. He didn’t notice the chill rise in the air of the narrow cavern. All he saw was his thoughts take the shape of a cold lifeless form that was now beginning to grow dim and fuzzy. A loaded shot of air sliced through the dark tunnel and burrowed deep under his skin. Bill knew that feeling. Rain was coming. He wondered if this rain would be like the frigid Indiana rain in late November or the sweltering rain in July. His eyelids flicked shut, remembering those dark nights with Jeff though now they were tarnished with the fresh memory beginning to form in his mind.

A cold hard barrel pressed into the back of his skull.

…

Slash stumbled to the door. He was too asleep to glare at the annoying person knocking at his door. He grumbled as he opened the door.

“Hey, man,” Izzy said with a nod. “How’s it going?”

“Izzy?” Slash spluttered like a teenage girl. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

“Came to jam. You up for it?”

“Uh, sure,” Slash replied suddenly wide-awake. He stepped aside to let Izzy enter.

“Home alone? Where’s Stevie?”

“I think he’s back at his mom’s house. She got sick of him getting arrested for… well, stuff.”

“We all do what we have to,” Izzy replied dismissively and opened the fridge. “You got anything to drink?” He draped a hand over the door and bent over to inspect the contents.

“I think there’s juice in there,” Slash offered meekly.

Never mind. I got it.” Izzy shut the door and walked away with a bottle of Bourbon and a half of a sandwich. “Come on!” He said between mouthfuls of food. He took a quick swallow of Bourbon to wash it down. “Let’s jam.”

Izzy was electric. His head bobbed in time to the wild rhythms he played. His back arched and he raised his guitar letting the echo of the high-pitched notes resound into the space. Slack lips fell open as he smiled almost in carnal pleasure from the throbbing guitar between his splayed thighs. His finger continued up and down the strings, continuing to massage an explosion of ecstasy from their hands.

Slash riffed harder. It was easy to fall into pocket with Izzy. He had a steady rhythm that was quick to pick up and mirror. They were almost playing the same thing, but one hit the down note while the other hit the up note. It was getting harder and heavier. Their guitars were fighting, but not each other. It was like they were fighting the world together.

Izzy leapt off the amp, sliding forward until he came to a stop and then he jumped up to a standing position. He windmilled his arms several times like Pete Townsend before raising his guitar above his head. His knotted shirt rose above his stomach baring more skin. When both guitars drifted out of the atmosphere, Izzy looked down and found that Slash had crawled between his knees. Slash was sweating and panting, but he looked happy in his debauched state.

Silently, Slash leaned up, reaching for Izzy’s hips. He started kissing the flesh that peeked out from beneath the knot in his shirt. His fingers deftly skimmed the waistband of his jeans, sometimes dipping downward. Izzy watched not sure of what else to do.

With his teeth around the button to Izzy’s fly, he looked up. Locking eyes with Slash, they twinkled as he held up the baggy he’d stolen from him. Izzy’s eyes went wide in alarm. He reached for it, but Slash pulled it out of reach.

“Fuck me for it,” Slash dared as he leaned back on his elbows and stretched out his naked torso. Izzy tried to take the coke back from him again, but Slash easily pulled it back. He grinned conspiratorially.

Izzy’s mind began to wander as he saw Slash propositioned on the floor holding the drugs. The sight transported him back to the run down hotel. The strong scent of marijuana filled his nostrils. The meeting of junkies and dealers sat around in a circle, trading stories and tips of scoring. To Izzy it was a normal day. He’d been starting to deal. He’d dabbled but not that often and he was starting to make some great money. It was okay. It was easy money and Izzy was in full control. Now Slash sat in his spot and he was in Bill’s position.

What had Bill seen? What did he think of what he’d become? Izzy had bolted after graduation with quick goodbyes to his family, but Bill… Bill was a different story. He’d gone to Bill’s house when he knew the reverend wasn’t home. The memory was still as pungent and real as if he were there in this moment. He had hoped to take Bill with him. He didn’t want to leave him behind and continued to feel guilty that he did as he soaked up the L.A. sun, knowing that Bill would love it. He’d flourish in the warmth and Izzy would feel stronger to really go somewhere with his music.

The night Jeff went to steal him away, Bill had shoved him away. Now Izzy had done the same to him. Why Bill did it, Izzy didn’t know, because he knew Bill wanted him more than he wanted to let on. Izzy had shoved Bill away so he wouldn’t see him dealing. Bill wasn’t an innocent lamb, but Izzy felt an innate protection of him. The longer he could hide Bill from the dark jungle gyms of L.A., the better.

“How much did he see?” Izzy asked softly.

“What?” Slash asked, frowning impatiently. “Dude, are we going to fuck or not?”

Izzy met Slash’s irate glare head on and said, “Drugs don’t go with sex. Even horny kids can’t get it up.”

Izzy was gone before Slash could utter a rebuttal.

Izzy pushed the door open before Tracii could and wrapped his arms around the smaller guitarist. Holding him tightly, he kissed him hard. Tracii tried to keep up with the ferocity in which Izzy’s lips moved but soon gave over control to whatever Izzy wanted. Izzy walked him back, still crashing their mouths together until they were on his bed.

“Iz…Mmph. Izzy…” Tracii protested, pushing Izzy away. Izzy tried to keep the connection, but Tracii wasn’t having it. He brought a leg up between them, halting Izzy’s movements. “Izzy, you’re crying!” He gasped slightly as did Izzy, but the later was also shaking. Running a hand over his face, he wiped his tears. “Darling, what’s wrong?”

Izzy let out a lungful of air and then whispered, “You told me to go to him. You said it would make me feel better.”

Tracii stiffened as the words sank in. For once he was at a loss of words. He continued to stoke Izzy’s cheek as he racked his brain for the right thing to say. Questions flooded his mind, but no solutions came to him. Gently he nudged Izzy to the bed and curled in beside him. Holding him tightly, he buried his face in Izzy’s neck. Eventually Izzy’s shaking stopped and the tears dried up, but he still felt off. The only thing Tracii could do was continue to embrace him, hoping whatever pain or memory that was hurting him would fade away in his strong hold. Izzy had been letting him see his true emotions lately, but he still wouldn’t articulate the root cause or act that caused them.

 _That would come later_ , Tracii thought. _I just have to be patient._

…

A cold hard barrel pressed into the back of his skull. Before he could lash out, he heard the soft metallic clink of a gun cocking. He knew that sound and it froze him on the spot. All the feeling in his body drained. Slow hard heartbeats pounded in his chest. He felt paralyzed, unable to breathe. Hands seized his biceps, dragging him further into the vile gloom of the alley.

“Gimme your fucking wallet or you’re dead, fuck-ass.” A harsh voice laced with the accent of the streets growled into his ear. Bill’s limp hands shook as rage flared in his chest. His mouth worked before any other part of him could.

“Get the fuck off me you uncle fucking dick wipes!” He swiftly pivoted, aiming a blow for the other man’s gut. His aim was accurate, sending his attacker to the ground. Four more guys advanced on him at once. He kicked one in the shin slowing him down, but two others quickly snatched his arms, pulling them behind his back. A third slugged him in the head, once, twice, three times. He slackened in their grip, moaning and growling at the same time.

He was laid out, flat on his back on the unforgiving asphalt. Boots pummeled Bill’s ribs and stomach. He struggled to curl into a ball, but thick hands seized his wrists, pushing them above his head. His first nefarious attacker leered over him. The hulking figure blocked out the fading sun. A grey-misted halo formed around the silhouetted face, giving him the look of a Renaissance painting.

Bill felt hands roaming his entire body. Hands. He’d experienced this feeling before, the rough, tingling touch of a man’s angry hands. It was a different touch than the one where it was all hesitant fingertips laced with care and precise pleasure. This time wasn’t like that one. This was like when his stepfather came into his room at night. These hands hurt as they prodded his flesh and slipped beneath his clothes. Axl snarled around his mouthful of blood that he spat at his attacker. That earned him a slap.

“I ain’t going to fuck you, fairy. You’d enjoy it too much. Although I should to treat a prissy little pretty bitch like you a lesson,” The gruff voice snarled with amusement. “Quit getting so damned excited and hold still.”

Thunder crackled above the head of his glowing attacker. Clouds swarmed across the tiny crevice that peaked out between the concrete buildings, as the pious hands stilled.

“Out of the millions of fucks in this god forsaken city we had to pick the one that’s got nothing on him!” The voice was a devil’s rumble. Seizing Bill’s jaw harshly, he tossed his limp rag doll body into the brick wall. He spat in Bill’s face. “This is for wasting our fucking time, bitch.”

Drawing his hand back, he swung the butt of the gun against Bill’s head, sending him to his knees. He collapsed onto the cold devilish bricks below. His hair fanned out beneath him, tangling with the red of his own blood. The group dispersed, leaving Axl to slip away to another time.

…

 

William’s body hung like a martyr propped against the playground jungle gym. He thrashed and twisted his upper body around fueled by the years of tumultuous rage and confusion despite the throbbing in his head. Aiming a kick at his approaching attacker, the other boy caught it. Pushing it to the side, he shoved William to the ground and spread his thighs wide. Straddling William’s other leg, he crudely rubbed his crotch against it. William gritted his teeth trying not to moan and hating what the touch did to him.

“You like that fairy? You know God hates you. This whole town fucking hates you. I bet even your own fucking mother fucking hates you for what you are.”

“Get the hell off me!” William screamed, thrashing again, but the boy caught his chin, biting his lip hard. Blood trickled from his lip as the boy drew away, letting William’s head slump forward.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to fix you.” Hands rested at William’s belt buckle. Crude fingers tickled along the hemline of his pants, slipping between the fabric and skin back and forth in a sick mockery of what was to come. “Now just stay quiet and we won’t have to tell anybody what you really are. We’re going to cure you.”

A siren blared in the distance. The boys jumped away from William letting his limbs tangle into the iron bars of the jungle gym. His head hit the lower bar, but the pain didn’t even register with him.

“Shit. Let’s get out of here!”

The boys took off. William barely moved despite his hatred of the self-righteous police force that stalked his hometown. They were always out to get him. His legs lay beneath him, unable to carry him away. The sirens faded as a dark shadow approached him.

William would fight whatever violation the police officer would slap him with. He shut his eyes waiting for the pompous voice, waiting for the fist on the end of the long arm of the law. Instead, a few gentle fingers touched his forehead, nudging his red blood streaked hair off his cheek and out of his eyes.

William opened his eyes, meeting a pair of concerned chestnut brown eyes. It was a boy about his age, with shaggy dark hair, long like his. His lips parted to defend himself to his death. No sound came.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.” The deep bluesy voice belonged to an angel. “Anything broken?”

“The cops.” William exhaled.

The boy smiled, pulling out a funny looking device. He wound it up. A loud police siren blared from it for a few seconds then died.

“Nicked the last time I was at the police station. Comes in handy from time to time. Can I help you home?”

“I’ll be fine.” William whispered in a muted snarl. He didn’t need help. Pulling himself up by the jungle gym, he took a step forward, only to stumble and fall.

The kid caught William before he hit the ground. He draped William’s arm over his shoulder. “Where do you live?”

“I can’t go home like this.” William confessed.

“Okay. Walk with me then.” The boy’s voice was patient and kind as he slowly led William away from the jungle gym that was now saturated with crimson memories. The pair found themselves in a secluded part of the dense forest by a small creak. Laying William down by a tree, the brunette walked quickly to the creek. Shaking his hair from the black bandana, he soaked it in the water. Gently he patted the cool damp cloth over William’s cuts and bruises. It stung, but the reassuring hand on William’s shoulder kept him still as the gentle ministrations continued over his blemished skin.

As the pain eased, he began to look at the boy closer. He wore a hole-y long sleeve black Alice Cooper t-shirt with scuffed hand-me-down jeans that slipped off his sleek hips. William’s eyes traversed every plane of the boy’s finely boned face that peeked out from behind his black-fringed mane. The boy had a soft amused smile, but it wasn’t mocking him. It was more of a cat like smirk to the world.

 _He’d make for a good tease…_ William didn’t just think that.

“How many fingers do you see?” The boy held up his middle finger with a cheeky grin.

“Why are you helping me?”

“Because you’re hurt.”

“You don’t believe them then?”

“Believe what?” The boy frowned softly confused.

“That God hates me?”

“If someone hates you, anyone really, they don’t deserve you. You deserve to be with people who love you.”

William stared.

“I can’t go home like this.”

“Come over to my house then. Nobody’s home and we can play guitars in the garage as loud as we want.”

“I don’t know how to play.”

“You can sing though.” William’s eyes shot open. The boy grinned, shrugging one shoulder lazily. “Yeah once in a while my mom succeeds in dragging me to church. You sing in the choir.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jeffrey.”

“William.”

“Let’s go home, Will.”

…

“Bill!” A distant voice screamed over the thunder. Bill heard sloshing footsteps slapping quickly against the flooded concrete. Hands came over him again. He tensed although they weren’t hard or vicious, but warm and gentle. Not like the dexterous understanding ones from Indiana, but ones he felt he might be able to trust one day.

“Bill, speak to me.” Tender slaps fell against his cheek as raindrops pummeled his face. “Come on, open your eyes for me.” Axl cracked one open to see relief wash over the stupidly happy blonde. _Is this guy always this fucking nice?_ Axl wondered.

“Duff.” He coughed slightly into a fading moan. Duff cocooned his body around him as a shield from the soft bullet like rain.

“Come on, we can talk later. Let’s go home.” Duff pulled Bill close to him, then up into his arms with a slight grunt. He carried Bill like he was his sleeping son walking home from the fair. Bill muttered his disgust, but Duff chuckled lightly, readjusting his hold on Bill’s ass.

“Yell at me when you have your voice back.” Duff mused. Bill finally laid his head against Duff’s sodden hair. “We’ll be home soon and then I can tell you about these crazy guys I met. I think you’ll like them. They’re in a band and they need a singer and a bass player. You’d be perfect to sing…”

Bill didn’t hear anything except the words going home. He remembered when Jeffrey said those words. When he took him home. _Won’t you please take me home, Jeff?_ This was like that time, but so vastly different. Silent tears spilled from his eyes, but no one could tell if they were his tears or the acid drops of a vicious L.A. rainstorm falling on Duff’s strong shoulders.

…

“If you need a place to stay just come by my place okay, sweetie?” The stripper put her address and a twenty in the cup

“Thank you,” Slash said with a sweet smile. She smiled and walked down the Strip. He quickly emptied the cup into his guitar case, hoping no one saw just how much money they were hoarding. “Steven? Are you coming out and helping me? You know the girls think you’re adorable.”

“I don’t feel good,” Steven moaned from behind a trashcan. His body lurched forward along with his guts.

“Why’d you drink all that wine? You know you can’t hold it like you can beer.”

“Just shut up,” Steven groaned. “You can go find another corner to…” Steven puked again.

Slash wasn’t leaving him. Earlier in the night they had crashed a fancy party. Neither was sure what it was for, but the promise of free food and booze was enough to tempt them. After they were pleasantly fed, Slash started pick-pocketing the guest’s purses and wallets, even snagging a couple pieces of jewelry. Steven had disappeared, but Slash wasn’t worried. It was a big party.

After sometime, Slash was impatient to leave and went to look for Steven. He found the blonde bound in tape and bleeding. Even in his beaten state, Steven still managed a weak smile. “Hey, man. Can you help me out of here?”

It shook Slash to his core to realize why Steven would show up and not want to sit to play the drums. It made him realize why he cringed sometimes when Tracii was around. It didn’t make it right, but it gave Slash much needed clarity. Slash had decided to teach the younger boy the art of panhandling. Once he mastered that technique, he would introduce him to pick pocketing. Only downside was Slash did not take into consideration that Steven would have such a negative reaction to wine.

Turning around and laying on his side, Slash said, “Stevie, you should…” Before he could finish a group of guys fell over his legs. Swearing and cursing, they shoved each other as they tried to stand. A gun shot off as it fell to the concrete. It swiveled in circles until it stopped pointed directly at Slash’s face. He gulped.

“Whoever fucking tripped us is going to die!” One guy roared as his hands roamed in search of the gun.

Steven quickly pulled Slash under the dumpster where he had crawled under. Slash protested especially when he smelled the vomit, but Steven held him tight. He clamped a hand over his mouth when the guitarist whined. The footsteps crept closer.

“Search the area!”

Sirens blared in the distance.

“Shit. Rollers!”

“You think that broke-ass kid phoned us in?”

“How would they know it’s us?”

“They probably heard your stupid gun! I told you to bring a knife.”

“Shut up and scatter!”

The flashing lights zoomed past the two friends in search of the gunshot’s owner. Steven smiled as he felt Slash relax in his grip. His rested his head on Slash’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Steven,” Slash whispered.

“Sure,” Steven said, but Slash knew he was smiling and just as relieved as he was.

“Let’s get out of here. You can stay at my house and sleep the rest of this off.”

“I can’t really move, Slasher.”

Slash wrapped Stevens’s arms around his neck and spread his legs. Drawing his knees under him, he hoisted the blonde onto his back. He pushed the guitar case into his hand, which was gladly accepted and started to walk.

“Thanks, buddy,” Steven mumbled sleepily against Slash’s neck.

“Anytime,” Slash responded and walked the twelve blocks to where they had parked his mom’s car. Steven had long fallen asleep before they had gotten to the car, but Slash was glad. He didn’t know why Steven did some of the things he did, and it worried him. He hoped one day Steven would get out of his own personal hell. Slash wondered if being rock stars would answer Steven’s prayers. Rock music cured a lot of adolescent ailments. Slash reasoned that one day he would find out the answer, but until then he’d just have to take care of Steven.

…

At the Whiskey, Steve Riley only half listened to the girls beside him ramble about the no-name band that was due to play next. Most of the chatter was centered on how hot the singer’s British accent was, and if they would fuck him or not. Steve didn’t come here _for_ the band, he came _with_ his band W.A.S.P., but his band mates had disappeared to the bathrooms and alleys for some action. He wondered why they bothered searching out seclusion when he considered their stage performance. Even the bar seemed to be much more X-rated and debauchees.

Point proven by Faster Pussycat, a very new band to the Strip that was holding court in a booth. They’d just gotten a new bass player, Kelly Nickels. He was a skinny kid with strong sculpted shoulders and endlessly long slender legs that looked perfect in his ripped jeans. Chiseled lines connected his high cheekbones down to his strong jaw. The line of his mouth covered the full expanse of his jaw with full lips that stretched into a feline like pout. Kelly looked like he was constantly craving sex or at least his mouth was. Steve wondered briefly if that was why he named himself after a porn star.

Steve felt like he was watching porn at the moment. Kelly was perched in Greg Steele’s lap. The guitarist was kissing and biting his neck as his hands teased him, tugging the hem of his tight sleeveless shirt higher and higher up his smooth torso. Kelly moaned, very pleased with the heavy petting, and rocked his hips against Greg’s crotch. Each purr and sexual jerk of his hips earned him deeper and hotter touches.

Brent Muscat watched appreciatively with a lazy smile and sharp eyes, enjoying the way his lover was toying with their new band mate. Greg would grab Kelly’s hair and force him to look at Brent. Each time he’d flash that boyish grin and his eyes would glimmer like he had a secret. The blatant arousal in his body caused Brent to look away or adjust himself. Greg would chuckle and find a way to touch Kelly to shock him into breaking the hypnotic spell he was weaving over Brent. Most of Greg’s attempts just fueled Kelly’s desires rather than dissuaded him from being the sexy tease he was born to be. Brent reached out to cup the side of Kelly’s face with his hand, rubbing the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Kelly’s pout widened and he parted his lips, letting Brent slip his thumb inside. Brent slammed his eyes shut and parted his lips.

 _Must be a great cock-sucker_ , Steve thought.

Greg lifted a hand and Steve noticed a girl slip under the table and head towards Brent. Most likely there was another girl under the table servicing Kelly from the way he arched and pushed his hips forward. Greg continued to press him forward, chuckling at the way the kid’s legs shook and he had to brace himself against the table. It looked like Greg had succeeded in distracting Kelly, so the guitarist could appreciate both his new pet as well as his lover. It was a dirty trick but effective, because Kelly was starting to come undone. His sexy smirk was starting to crack replaced by pursed lips. To Steve it seemed that the bassist was moaning for more of Greg’s touch and Brent’s eyes than what was going on down below. He constantly tried to turn his head to catch their eye or mouth.

What peaked Steve’s interest was the small kid staring at them. He wasn’t exactly getting off on it, but the threesome or fivesome fucking definitely held his rapt attention. Steve had seen this pimpled kid around the Strip several times before. He never looked to be of age, but that never stopped him from squeezing in where he wasn’t legally allowed to be. It never stopped Steve either. He often found the kid buzzing around the room, talking to anyone and everyone he could. Mostly it was about music or pot, sometimes fucking, but mostly music, especially Jimmy Page. Every time he saw Steve, he’d make a beeline for him and start talking a mile a minute. Steve would turn away for a second and the kid would already disappear if he found something else that was more entertaining. Drove Steve nuts sometimes how he had a single-track brain and short attention span. Yet, he felt the weirdest connection to him. He wanted to get to know him more and find out what he was all about.

At first Steve was concerned that the kid wanted sex, but that never came up thankfully. Not that kid wasn’t attractive. He’d just like him to be a little older when he’d fuck him. Steve couldn’t kid himself. He did want him, as did a lot of people. Now the kid was engrossed in Pussycat’s show, Steve was starting to get turned on even more. As if feeling the weight of Steve’s gaze, the kid turned to look straight at him. He waved enthusiastically at him and made a direct beeline for him.

“Hi!”

“Hey,” Steve replied with a friendly smile.

“I saw you the other day in W.A.S.P. You were fucking fantastic!” The kid quickly rattled off several questions not bothering to take a pause to breath or even let Steve reply. Steve tried to follow, but it was hard to pay attention when Kelly was now pressed against the table with Greg reaming him. The way the bassist twisted and arched beneath the muscled guitarist made Steve nearly cum. Kelly wasn’t acting now his lips were pulsing with desire and pleading, moist and wet from hard kisses.

Greg would ignore his pleas and snatch a handful of his long jet-black tresses. Either he twisted Kelly’s head back to kiss him, or push him toward Brent who waited with a famished mouth. Each time Brent kissed him it was hard and arousing. The guitarist would slide a hand close to the bassist’s long hard cock and start to tease the skin around it. Kelly would whine and nearly weep when Brent dipped even lower into his jeans.

It was more than evident in Steve’s skintight leather and he wasn’t comfortable being this close to the action with this kid right beside him. The kid either didn’t take notice or didn’t care and continued to ramble to him like it was perfectly normal.

“What…” Before Steve could answer the barrage of questions a voice came over the speakers announcing the band, GIRL. The kid glanced up as he heard the group of girls shriek as the lead singer pranced out onto the stage. He pouted slightly over one shoulder and took the microphone and caressed it sexually. Steve wanted to die when he saw him. He was that hard.

The singer was the perfect combination of male and female aesthetic. His long sleeved shirt was leopard print and dipped down his chest to just below his belly button. Tight leather pants hung low at his hips with a large studded belt Steve fantasized about removing. He had a sensual pout to his slightly upturned mouth that reminded him of Kelly, but he wasn’t as starved for his sex action. He demanded it. His voice was laced with remnants of the British Isle and sailed over the bar effortlessly despite the shrieks from the girls at the base of the stage. His hips swayed as he sang and moved around the stage. Steve wanted to throw him down and fuck him right there on the stage. He didn’t care if everyone watched. He didn’t care if the kid joined in. He just wanted to watch this guy cum on his dick. Steve wished his pants weren’t so tight.

A loud catcall drew Steve out of his thoughts. Looking down, he saw the kid fist pump the air and scream again. The singer glanced over. Not missing a word, he continued to sing but now his gaze was locked on to the kid. Jealousy tugged at Steve’s dick making it that much harder and angrier. The kid turned suddenly and yelled he’d see Steve later before disappearing into the crowd. Steve stared after him completely bewildered and confused.

Turning back he found the singer was now looking at him. With a pointed look at Steve’s crotch, he smiled smugly and straightened up, puffing out his chest like a peacock. The girl’s erupted with fresh screams, but they fell on deaf ears, as he didn’t take his eyes off Steve. He pumped the microphone and purposefully pursed his lips, bringing them close to the head as he sang. He was demanding attention. He was demanding action. Steve nodded to him, knowing he would give that guy anything he wanted. The vocalist smiled and thrust his hips forward.

…

Steve found himself in a sleazy hotel room with the vocalist. It didn’t surprise him at all. He was consumed with thoughts about seeing and exploring the vocalist up close. Yet he was surprised at how nervous he was. The singer was just as suave as he’d been on the stage, almost more so, because he was in his element. He knew it too, because he led Steve into the room without even a question of why the drummer had followed him home.

“Close and lock that will you, love?” He asked with a flick of his wrist. Steve doubled back and latched the door shut. Before he could turn back around, he was pressed up against the door. His hands were pushed up above his head and a firm body was pressed against his. A nose burrowed in the curve of his neck. He heard the vocalist inhale. “Mm, you smell nice.” Hands skimmed beneath his chest, pushing the lacings aside and trying to find his nipples.. “You feel nice. I’m glad you had a hardon for me. It was for me, wasn’t it?” The hands stopped short. “Or was it for your little lover?”

“Y-you…” Steve hissed between his teeth as his chest shuddered.

“Good. Now let’s have some fun, eh?” The vocalist’s fingertips brushed over his cock before he released him and coaxed him deeper into the room. “Eh. Is he a friend of yours?”

“Who? That kid? Uh, no. I just run into him now and then. He doesn’t really stay in one place for long. Kind of hyper.”

“Guess he won’t be joining us then.” He took a swig of his bottle.

Steven frowned slightly. “Is that going to be a problem?”

The vocalist smiled and swiftly strode over to Steve. Lacing an arm around his neck, he purred, “No. Just changes what we’re going to be doing tonight.”

Steve bristled and his displeasure showed, because the singer cupped his face and stroked his cheek.

“Come now, love. We’re still going to fuck. I want you. I’m just changing the positions I had playing out in my mind for us while I was performing.” His hand slid down his chest to softly cup him between his thighs. “Now, let’s take care of this, eh?” He turned them around and pushed Steve onto the bed. Steve in turn sat up on his elbows but was instantly pinned by the other man’s lips claiming his own. He was melting into the wet hot crash of his lips. It made him want more from the vocalist and something only he could have from him. Something he didn’t have to share with that snot nosed kid who might be taking up space in the singer’s mind. The vocalist had practically salivated at the sight of that little shit bouncing around the room.

“What’s your name?” Steve asked as the singer started pulling the long lace out of the loops of his shirt.

“Now, love. If I tell you my name you’re going to have to scream it when I make you cum,” Phil teased and paused as he put the lace in his mouth and pulled it taught. “You promise you’ll scream my name for me?”

“Yes,” Steve exhaled, barely able to look at the singer.

He was like an animal and Steve was his prey. His cock was unbelievably hard and yet he desired for this man to continue to tease him. He wanted to be his toy and let him use him. His touch was powerful and hypnotic with a bit of class. However much class you can have with dirty hotel sex. It was almost like when he was on stage, but more vulgar. Onstage it was still sleazy but more rehearsed. Steve was getting drunk off the sensations coursing through his hot blood.

“My name is Phil. Phil Lewis,” he replied. “And what might your name be, love?”

“S-Steve R-Riley,” he stuttered.

“Steve, huh?” With the sinuous grace of a cat, Phil descended on Steve’s torso peeling away the useless shirt and licked a long stripe up his torso. Steve’s lips parted as his breath caught in his throat. As his tongue recoiled into his mouth, Phil locked his gaze on Steve. The wide grin was deceptively sweet and taunting. Cupping his neck with one hand, Phil pulled Steve closer and whispered in his low voice, letting his accent come out, “I hope you like it rough, Stevie, because that’s the mood I’m in.”

His mouth crashed onto his, tugging at his lips and sucking them between his teeth. Steve gasped and intertwined his fingers in Phil’s soft black hair, careful not to pull his earrings that glittered with each movement. Phil moaned as he felt the drummer encourage him to explore him deeper. The collision of teeth, lips, and tongues was sure to leave bruises, but that turned Steve on even more. He was ready for Phil to take control of him, command him like he did the stage and the audience. He didn’t realize he wanted this until Phil held him captive on the bed, but this was what his body wanted when he drooled over his stage performance.

Phil’s hands scratched his shoulders as they slid down his chest and rubbed over his ribs and hips. Steve tried to throw back his head and moan but was held in place by Phil’s mouth ravaging him. Phil allowed him to raise his hips to ease some tension, but he even used this reprieve to his advantage. His fingers worked stealthily on the laces of Steve’s pants. The drummer, barely aware that he was being stripped, swiveled his hips to aid Phil’s work.

Smiling into the kiss, Phil drew himself back, taking the leathers with him in one swift motion. Steve panted and gaped up at the vocalist who stood over him like a hunter having captured his trophy. Despite his wanton position, Steve moved a hand to cover his freed cock. Phil quickly pulled his hand away and kissed it. Slipping a finger inside his mouth, he swirled his tongue around and let his teeth just barely graze the pad. His pretty eyelashes lowered as he looked directly at Steve’s cock that twitched at the attention.

“Uh, fuck me, Phil. Fuck, please fuck me,” Steve groaned and rolled his hips.

With a loud pop, Phil released his finger, licking his lips. Using their clasped hands as his anchor as well as a way of keeping Steve in place, he elongated his body over Steve’s, letting their cocks slide against each other’s.

“When did you get naked?” Steve rasped, causing Phil to give a short laugh.

“Really? That’s what you want to know right now?” Phil laughed and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “How about where my hand is?”

“I don’t fucking know! I feel like I’m going to explode and you’re a fucking tease!” Steve spat and groaned when Phil hit his prostate. “Fuck. Do that again!”

Phil’s eyes glittered with sexual pleasure, but his finger recoiled. Steve whined and rocked his hips up.

“I know. I know, love, but I can’t go in dry. I have to get ready to make you feel good.”

“I thought you were going to do it rough?”

“I’m not a monster, baby. Now come. Be a good boy and don’t ruin it.” Phil waited for Steve to nod before releasing his hand. He watched in amazement as Phil slicked his dick. With another serpentine motion Phil seethed himself all the way inside Steve’s ass. The drummer gasped and squirmed beneath him, moaning hard. He turned his face, but felt soft knuckles running over his flesh cheek. They were slightly cooler than his skin but not by much. The motion of the digits and the soft kiss to his temple helped.

“Shh,” Phil shushed him. “Now comes the rough part, baby. You still want me? You can say no anytime you want and I’ll stop.”

Steve raised his head defiantly and said in the clearest voice of the night, “Fuck me, Phil!”

Steve clung on for dear life as Phil thrust into him. He held Steve’s hips so he could hit his prostate with every twist of his hips. The drummer blinked and cried out as his senses were thrown into overdrive as he was continuously fucked in the most heavenly possible way. His fingers dug into Phil’s shoulders as hard as Phil’s nails dug into his hips. His head fell back as he tried to seek the last tiny bit of friction he needed to achieve release.

“Uh, uh, baby. I need something from you,” Phil cooed and grabbed Steve’s cock, squeezing hard to starve off his orgasm. “Remember what we talked about? I need that from you now.”

“P-Ph…” Steve gasped as his body tried to thrash, but Phil didn’t allow it.

“Close. Come on, baby. You can do it.”

“Fuck! Phil, please fuck me!”

“There you go.”

Without another smart word, Phil was rutting between Steve’s quivering thighs with renewed vigor. He pumped his strained cock in time with his movements, just like he did with the microphone. A litany of Phil’s name danced on Steve’s lips and soon became an entire hymn as Phil bent down to suck his neck. With one final cry of Phil’s name, Steve came, Phil following a few minutes later.

The future band mates collapsed onto each other, gasping and panting. Phil rolled to the side of Steve to try and cool off more. His arm still draped over Steve’s sweaty chest. It felt like it was being glued to his skin. Phil wasn’t complaining and if he weren’t so spent he would have started toying with the drummer’s nipples to get him hard again.

“God, you’re a tease,” Steve exhaled with a soft laugh.

“Thank you,” Phil replied smartly with a laugh.

“I meant that as a compliment,” Steve replied quickly.

“I know. And I am. The best of the Hollywood scene,” Phil replied and turned his face to look at Steve. His eyes were heavy with satisfaction and the need to sleep. “You can stay tonight if you’d like, Steve,” Phil said as he drifted off to sleep.

Phil closed his eyes and faded off to sleep with his arm still draped over Steve’s chest. It wasn’t clinging and Steve could easily leave, but Steve didn’t want to do anything except hold this man until he woke up so they could fuck again. Never did he think he would be the bottom, but this was a part of Phil’s action and Steve wanted it. Steve got it and he was satiated for the time being.

Curling himself around the other guy, he pulled him into the natural curve of his body. Phil, still asleep, snuggled deeper into the cocoon of warmth. The last thing Steve thought before drifting off to sleep was what Phil would have wanted to do differently if the kid was with them. Maybe one day they could find out together.

 

…

Back at the apartment, Duff laid Bill on a pile of unwashed clothes, the softest place in the apartment. Dark shadows churned at the corner of Bill’s emerald eyes. Duff wanted to know what happened, but thought better than to press the topic. Slowly he tugged Bill’s shirt up his shivering belly. Bill hissed, batting Duff’s hands away with a fierce swat.

Duff sat back slightly stunned. “I’m sorry.” He spoke hushed and remorsefully. “I just didn’t want you to get sick. I don’t have money for medical bills.”

Bill cocked his chin dismissively. Trying to hide his discomfort he turned away, cursing low as he tried to pull his shirt up. Muffled screams caused Duff’s eyes to widen. Bill’s body begged Duff for help, but his eyes glared defiantly. Duff waited. Finally Bill resigned with a pained hiss.

Cautiously, Duff moved forward, gingerly relieving Bill of his wet t-shirt. Axl sniffled, lying further back into the dirty clothes, seeking warmth, eyes closing. Duff bit his own wrist to hold back the shock as his eyes trailed over Bill’s pale body covered in bruises. He used an old t-shirt to clean the red cuts over his ribs. Bill’s body twitched and quivered, but the redhead bit back his cries. Duff reached for the sopping wet black bandana.

“No.” Axl breathed as his hands weekly caught Duff’s fingertips at his forehead. Duff smiled reassuringly. He lied down beside Bill, curling around him. Drawing a blanket over both of them, Duff could hear Bill whisper; only catching certain words.

“Not…same…are you?...sorry… kept it… time...”

A sleepy hand clumsily pushed the bandana toward Duff. Hesitantly he took the blood stained fabric looking at it, then at Axl. He smiled in his sleep, mumbling thank you. Thumbing the soiled faded, fabric Duff wondered at its significance, but didn’t pursue it. He smiled as Bill’s shivers subsided and he heard him breath steadily. Unbeknownst to Duff, his new roommate fell once again into his recurring dream.

…

“Jeff! Jeffrey! Wait, I saved it. Remember when we met you washed me with it. You took away the pain!” William was trying to run to his fading friend, but his legs wouldn’t work. “Jeffrey, I still have it!”

…

Bill’s eyes flew wide-awake. He had that dream again. He hated that dream. Sliding out of the comfortable warm embrace, he moved to a corner drawing his legs into his chest. He tore off a piece of old yellowed brittle newspaper, scribbling.

_You’re one in a million…Maybe someday we'll see you…tried to reach you…_

…

“Chris-to-pher!” Tracii popped up around the corner with a large grin on his face. “Hi! How are you?” He hopped up on the desk next to where Chris sat. “What ‘cha doing?”

“Studying.”

“Why? Don’t you want to be in a cool rock band?”

“This is my Plan B. What can I do for you today, Tracii?”

“Will you come to the Troubadour Thursday night with me?”

“Can’t we go another night? They don’t even have a live band playing Thursday.”

“Nope! It has to be Thursday night.”

“Trace, we both have that huge History test which is what I’m studying for.”

“Oh come on! You can study Wednesday night.”

“It’s not about when to study, Tracii. Remember the Math test we both fell asleep for? We got matching zeros and had to go to summer school. You can’t tell me you want to come to school during the summer again, can you?”

“Well no, but this test isn’t that important.”

“Just twenty percent of our final letter grade.”

“Right!” Tracii jumped up. “So that means we can go.”

“Never said that,” Chris said and returned to his book. He felt a sharp elbow bite down into his thigh. Looking over his book, he found large pleading eyes and folded hands. “What are you doing?”

“Please, Chrissy? Pretty please? Come with me?” Tracii whined trying to look like the saddest puppy. It was working a bit because Chris had to fight to keep his determination.

“I’ll humor you for two minutes.” With a sigh, Chris marked his place and lowered the book. Seeing Tracii’s beaming face, he bit his lip to keep the inevitable smile at bay. “Why is it so important that I go with you?”

“Because you’re going to meet Izzy!”

“Izzy? The guy you’ve been on and off with for how many years? Who lives at your house when he can’t afford his own place? That Izzy? Why do I need to meet him? Are you two getting married?”

“Why get married? I’m going to be with someone because I want to be, and I’m in love. Not because of a piece of paper and a circle of metal.”

“So why is it so important that I meet Izzy?”

“Because you’re both guitarists, duh. Think about it. He writes the songs and plays rhythm. You’re going to make some awesome riffs and together you’re going to be as big as Aerosmith!”

“Just how high are you?” Chris placed a hand on Tracii’s head, turning it this way and that. He pulled the skin away from his eyes. Tracii shook himself free and sat back.

“I’m as sober as water. Would you please just come out for three minutes? I really want you to meet Izzy.”

“You still haven’t told me why.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No. You told me the end result of the meeting. You haven’t told me the reason why.”

Tracii sat down. “He’s in a really bad mood.”

“And you can’t fuck his pain away?”

“It’s not the kind of pain that can be cleared up with a fuck. He’s in a bad mood, because he tried to jam with Slash, and they got into it. Those two would make a great pair but Slash ended up trying to suck his cock.”

“Tried or did?” Chris asked. Tracii glared at him. “What? Legit question. You might be faithful all the time, but you always gave him leeway on that shit.”

“I’m ticked that you would think he’d lie to me.”

“I never said that.”

“Just talk to him! Five minutes that’s all I’m asking.”

“Earlier you said three.”

“Same difference.”

“Tracii, you play lead. Why don’t the two of you form a band?”

“We’ve talked about it and we both agree we shouldn’t be fucking if we’re in the same band.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Sure it does. We don’t want to make any weird alliances or create friction in the band because of our relationship status.”

“So your answer is to put me in a band with him?” Chris asked. Tracii nodded. “Would this decision have anything to do with me not ever sucking cock?” Tracii looked away for a minute. Chris smiled and leaned forward. Pulling Tracii by the nape of his neck he kissed the younger boy’s cheek. Tracii gave a surprised yelp and jumped back. Like a child he rubbed at the spot as if he could wipe off the kiss. Chris laughed. “Now you two are even.” He held up a hand. “And I’ll meet Izzy. Three minutes.”

Forgetting Chris’s transgressions, Tracii hopped into the blonde’s lap and hugged him tightly. Chris smiled and scratched Tracii’s head. He decided not to push him away to get back to studying. It didn’t really matter. Tracii always had a way of getting under everyone’s skin until they did what he wanted, or followed him around like a lovesick puppy. He wasn’t totally sure about which category Izzy fell under.

Tracii had told him bits and pieces of the guitarist but much was still unknown about him. If nothing else, Chris could use this time to intimidate Izzy into being a steadier boyfriend for his friend. Tracii wasn’t a saint and never claimed to be, but he did deserve the best, especially if he was forgoing being in a band with Izzy to stay his boyfriend. It made Chris then wonder what kind of guitar player Izzy was or even a songwriter. Tracii had mentioned that he was starting to write.

“You won’t regret it,” Tracii said as he loosened his hold a little on him. “You two are going to be rock stars just like me.” Tracii rolled to his back, still in Chris’s lap, and proceeded to tell him more about Izzy and why they’d be a perfect pair. Chris listened but his thoughts drew to his premonition of summer school in his future.

…

“Slash? Slash? Fucking Slash!”

“Huh?” Slash asked almost dropping his guitar from his lap.

“What’s with you today? For once in all the time I’ve known you, you’re not playing your guitar,” Steven said.

“Oh, uh…” Slash couldn’t finish his sentence.

Steven continued to bang his sticks along every piece of his furniture until he made it to Slash’s bed. Collapsing onto the mattress, he beat the air and hummed the sound of cymbals crashing against each other. His underwear had slipped down his small hips, but he didn’t seem to care. Slash stared hard at the bone sticking out above the white cotton. His eyes slowly trailed over his body.

“Slash! What the hell?”

“What?” Slash spluttered, jumping slightly in his seat.

“You’re doing that thing where you stare at me again!” Steven pointed an accusing drumstick at the guitarist. “You haven’t done this since you came out to Tracii.” Shifting on the bed, he tugged up his underwear and reached for his pants. “Don’t you have that bass player to ogle at? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Uh, sorry, dude.”

“Whatever,” huffed Steven and yanked down his t-shirt over his body. Shoving the drumsticks in his pocket, he stormed past the fully nude Slash, and slammed the door hard on his way out.

Slash jumped slightly at the sound and stared at the hallway. What was wrong with him? Was he into Izzy? When did that happen? It felt horrible when Izzy rejected him. He also didn’t understand why he even wanted Izzy in the first place. It might have been the way Izzy played his guitar. It was all pure soul when that guy played his guitar, yet he had the same energy and hunger that Slash had. It was rare for Slash to find that in another player at this age and time. But Slash didn’t need a guitarist. He was a guitarist. Slash needed a bass player and a singer. He did want in Duff’s pants. Yet he wanted Izzy to fuck him senseless the other night and then he’d been staring at Steven like he wanted him too. What the fuck was wrong with him? Was it just being constantly rejected?

 _I’ll show him,_ Slash thought with a devilish smirk, and walked to his mom’s closet.

…

Slash pushed against his padded bra. The stiff material felt awkward around his body and it annoyed him. He wondered why girls put up with them. He was all for free-balling in every sense of the word. He wondered why he insisted on stuffing the already padded bra. Oh yeah. He wanted a big rack for when he’d seduce Steven tonight. Parking the car, he stepped out onto the pavement in a tight sequined dress and heels. The makeup and hair job was a little sloppy, but he figured no one would notice in the dark nightclub. He half walked half wobbled to the end of the line and waited. A couple people looked him up and down, but none compliment. He heard a few snickers, but nothing more was said or done.

Not two minutes went by when a security guard pointed a finger at him and waved him over. Slash hesitated. He hadn’t had the best of luck with security in the past and he knew this guy. Maybe he’s been spotted. _Shit. Now everyone’s going to know it’s me,_ he thought worriedly. The guard insisted he come now with an impatient wave. Tangling his fingers around the necklace, Slash wobbled forward but stopped several feet back from the guard. This guy looked like a wrestling champion. He easily towered over Slash by a couple feet and had arms and a torso the size of a tree. His bald head reflected the lights of the club and he always wore the most menacing look. Slash was for once scared shitless of this man. They knew each other, but tonight he felt like he was a complete stranger.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to wait in the gutter all night,” he said with a smile. He bowed to take a hold of the rope and exaggerated the movement as if he were formally bowing to Slash. Holding the rope, he said, “Have a nice night, princess.”

Slash blinked and almost said something to the guy who had repeatedly kicked him out for being underage. The evil smile and politeness disarmed his tongue and he opted to smile bashfully and give a quick nod. Inching past the bouncer, he bristled at the low wolf whistle and entered the club. The music was loud and hard. Most of it was good rock music that Slash wished he were playing. That wasn’t his mission tonight though. It was to find and seduce Steven to freak him out and pull the greatest prank on him. It was his payback for wigging out and ditching him at practice earlier.

Stray hands tried to grab Slash’s ass as he weaved through the crowd. He shot them angry glares, but soon opted for just ignoring the advances as best he could. Responding with anger just seemed to encourage the hands to be more advantageous and lewd. It was dizzying trying to find Steven in a sea of platinum blondes. Finally, he made his way over to a girl he knew that also knew Steven.

“Hey! Have you seen Steven Adler?” He yelled over the noise.

“Stevie? Oh, he just left,” the girl replied.

With that statement, Slash felt his whole world fall away. It felt like a spotlight was being cast over him, singling him out for the entire club to see. He realized that he was the only guy in a sea of women and he was dressed as a woman. His palms got clammy and his legs trembled despite being stock-still.

He bolted for the side door, but tripped over his shoes. Bracing himself against the bar and warding off helpful hands, he wondered, _Why did I wear these?_ He clutched them to his chest, not wanting to lose them. _Oh yeah, because my calves looked fucking hot in them._ He took off again for the door. It fell open with a loud thud as he darted out of the alley.

Slash’s bare feet didn’t stop moving until he was in the safety of his car. He yanked the dress off, and nearly tore the bra from his body letting the stuffing scattered over his lap and the floor of the car. Panting from the rush of adrenaline and other high emotions, he laid his head against the steering wheel. Makeup smudged the black leather, but he didn’t seem to care as he tried to relax about what he had just done. He didn’t remove his jewelry, kind of liking the large hoop earrings that dangled in his mass of curls. He made a mental note to get his nose pierced soon, and maybe his belly button.

Completely nude, he stuck the keys in the ignition. No one would tell if he drove home naked at this time of night. He wanted to get laid bad, but he wanted dick. He thought of going to see Tracii, but that fuck had declared monogamy, or his version of it, and was probably getting fucked by Izzy right now. He wondered if he could convince the pair of having a three way. Izzy seemed like an anything goes guy, but Tracii might need a little more coaxing. Granted he did like to watch. Slash filed away that thought for later use and preceded to think about whom he could get some from.

He couldn’t show up to Duff’s place and fuck him, only because he didn’t know where Duff lived. He didn’t want Steven and he didn’t want anyone else that he could think of who would give it to him. His thoughts briefly thought of Nikki Sixx, but he didn’t know him well enough to know if he swung that way. He could maybe persuade Brett Michels to give him a blowjob, but then he’d get eyeliner all over his crotch. No thank you.

Horniess wasn’t new to Slash, but he wondered why he was this starved tonight. He was already half hard. _Probably because I didn’t wear underwear and the fabric was so soft rubbing against my dick_ , he reasoned. _Damnit_.

He killed the engine and grabbed his erection. Tonight he had to spend some quality time bonding with his hand. He plotted to kill Steven for not being at the club tonight for his prank. Then another thought crossed his mind that surprised him as he came. He imagined Izzy fucking him. There was a taco on the bedside, which made no sense, but made Slash cum hard.

 _Shit… I thought I wanted Duff like that,_ he thought as he lay back in the seat, panting and sweating.

…


	5. Rocker Roller: The Rainbow’s Parking Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Awesome. Now, who the hell do I remind you of?”  
> “What?”  
> “You’re staring at me like I’m a piece of meat. An old boyfriend?”  
> Izzy’s eyes narrowed at Chris, who waved dismissively. ...

“You know… I think you’re a really hot,” Slash purred, voice dropping to a husky whisper. The mattress slumped, as he leaned closer. “I like watching you. The way you handle your bass really turns me on. I bet you could handle a guitarist in your hands real good too.”

“Thanks.” The blonde beamed. “Um, do you mean… what I think you mean?”

“Yeah, babe, I do.” Slash’s plump lips peeled away to reveal a pearly white smile. Leaning closer, he placed his palm delicately on the other boy’s thigh.

“I’ve never done this before.” The voice was soft and tepid.

“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. I’ll be gentle. You’ll like it. I promise. You can also say no and I’ll stop whenever you want me to. I doubt you’ll want me to though.” Slash’s hand grazed over the other's thigh gently. The blonde squirmed slightly. “So how about it, baby? Want to give it a try?”

“Yes! Oh, my god, yes! Fuck me, Slash!” The blonde flung himself onto the bed, before quickly curling into a ball of hysterical laughter.

“Damn it, Steven, you’re not helping!” Slash smacked Steven’s head. The drummer fell to the floor with a thump, but that only made him laugh harder and louder. “You were the one who suggested role playing in the first place.”

“Hey, I was trying to help you,” Steven said, gasping for air between his guffaws. Then his expression turned hard. “Besides you were getting way too into it! Damn, fuck head, you know I don’t do that shit.”

“Whatever. This is a stupid idea.” Slash paced the room. “When he gets here, just tell him we found someone else.”

“But we haven’t found anyone else,” Steven said puzzled. “We can’t even find a singer in the land of bountiful rock star wannabes. Hell, even Ratt found one. Ugly as fuck, but he still can sing in tune more than Vince, well… mostly.”

“Steven, just shut up, and tell him.”

“I don’t think I can do those things in that order.” Steven shook his head and promptly took to ignoring Slash. He beat his drumsticks on the worn out carpet of Slash’s room.

“Jesus Christ, Steven.” Slash exhaled, as he grabbed his bottle of Jack. He drained it slowly as he lay on his back. Casting the empty bottle aside, he spread his arms out at his sides. “I’m totally freaked out, and I don’t have enough alcohol to help.”

“You could do some coke.”

“You finished what Izzy left us and that will just make me crazier and nervous.”

“I did?” Steven asked completely clueless.

Slash threw his arm over his face, blocking out the light and Steven’s plays at being clueless. Some days it was cute. Today it was annoying as hell. The doorbell rang.

“There. Go tell him we’re not interested anymore, Steven.” The doorbell rang. “Steven, answer the door.” The doorbell rang again. “Steven answer the…!” Rising up, he couldn’t find his friend anywhere. _Steven is never that quiet, so how the hell did he sneak out of here?_ Sighing, Slash hurried up the stairs to the front door that had fallen quiet. _Oh no, he left!,_ Slash thought, running faster. A rush of wind hit his face, as he yanked the door open almost breaking it off its hinges.

Nobody was there. Slash stuck his head out, whipping his face from side to side and pushing his obnoxious curls from his face. A tall blonde with drooped shoulders walked down the sidewalk, a guitar case wept beside him. Slash waved his hands from the porch. _Oh yeah, Slash, that’s great. Wave to him when he can’t see you!_ Nerves screamed at him to go back inside. His body ached for him to cry out. _No!_ Slash reached the bottom of his porch. _Just say something, anything._

“H-Hey!” Slash froze, as the blonde turned. A cute energetic beam spread over Duff’s broad chin, lighting up his entire face, from his honey almond eyes to his bleach blonde hair. It was shaggier than he remembered it to be.

“Hey, man! I thought you weren’t home.” Slash couldn’t help but stare at those long, powerful and slender legs as he bounded up the path to him. Slash’s mouth went dry as Duff came to stand in front of him. “How ya been?”

“Uh, good, good.” Slash nodded vigorously as his tongue tripped over his words.

Silence descended. Duff readjusted his hold on his guitar. A slice of silver light sparkled from his neck. Slash remembered the padlock, but not this one. A new necklace clinked softly against the padlock. The small pendant was a miniature crucifix. It looked like it was fashioned by amateur hands, skilled good hands, but inexperienced. The chain itself was a fine tightly woven rope of silver that cascaded down his linear neck.

“So… can I still get that audition?” Duff asked beaming.

"Your hair isn't blue!" Slash exclaimed as his eyes traveled up Duff’s neck to his face.

Duff laughed, scratching his blonde tresses. "Naw, man I usually change it every two weeks or so."

"I like it! So, is that your natural color?" Slash secretly prayed it was or that Duff would at least leave it blonde for a while. He had a thing for blondes and this color made Duff look even more fuckable. If that were possible in Slash’s fantasy.

"Want to find out?" Duff asked mischievously.

Slash hid behind his hair, shifting back and forth on his feet.

"I'm kidding dude," Duff slapped his arm playfully.

"Oh." Slash tucked his chin into his chest, letting his hair cover even more of his face. "Uh, let's audition you."

Slash walked stiffly back to his house, worrying he screwed things up with Duff. _Maybe he’s straight?_ He wondered as he stole glances at Duff’s boots to make sure he didn’t walk away on those scandalous legs. Somehow they ended up in Slash’s room with Duff perched on his bed, merrily tuning his bass. Duff grinned, rocking slightly, as he noticed Slash staring at him.

“Sorry, man. I couldn’t do this on the bus ride over. My roommate got mugged the other day, so I didn’t want to chance someone swiping this off me, you know?”

“Oh, uh… yeah, no, it’s cool. That’s sucks though.” Slash shuffled his socked feet as Duff went back to work. Unsure of what else to do, Slash stared at Colin, wishing he were a snake. Snakes knew what they wanted, and took what they wanted easily, and could always slither off into a hole.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Duff’s voice immediately bled into a deep throbbing low bass line he plucked with his fingers. Pounding and sexual, his hands drew across the strings baring an aggressively beautiful low twang. Slash stood mesmerized, watching the bass player hammer out the chords.

Slash’s eyes moved from Duff’s hands to his mouth. Bright pink lips parted into a smirking oval as he watched Slash watching him. He shook his blonde hair, letting it fly around his head, as he leaned over his guitar pushing the neck forward. Duff pouted his lips into a lopsided Sex Pistols sneer as he struck the last chord. The throbbing bass line vibrated over the airwaves and right down the center of Slash’s body into his groin. He felt flushed despite not having moved once.

“Hey, play that again!” Steven chirped from behind his drum kit.

Duff grinned and stood up. He started plucking out the same bass line as he walked toward the drums. He watched Steven’s head bob and his hands start twirling his drumsticks in the air as he was finding the groove Duff was laying down. Soon drums and cymbals clanged and thundered into a solid throbbing beat, backing Duff up perfectly. Slash’s mind was slowly drifting away from the perfectness that was Duff’s ass and losing himself to the music. When Duff shifted his stance, it usually broke Slash out of his creative trance and made him start drooling over Duff’s tight backside again.

Steven chucked a spare drumstick at Slash. The guitarist rubbed his head, glaring at Steven. The small blonde nodded at the lonely guitar beside Slash’s bed. Quickly slipping the strap over his chest, Slash found the direction of the music and added his own take. Duff turned and flashed him a smile as he heard the low riff Slash was drawing on. Slash faltered and quickly hid himself from Duff. Letting his hair both guard as well as help him focus, he found the riff and started strumming faster. The combined sound hardened into unrefined thunder as joy radiated from the three musicians. It wasn’t until the sun was setting that they even thought about breaking for air or even water.

“That was hot,” Steven announced, leaping up from behind his drum kit, stretching his limbs. “I vote ‘yes’. I got to go. Congrats Blondie! Bye Slashie!” He took off up the stairs for some water.

“Slashie?” Duff smirked, turning back to look at Slash. He stretched his body tight and pushed the hair out of his face. Slash swallowed hard as he watched the soft undulations of Duff’s torso. _Was he doing this on purpose?_

“Yeah, Steven’s one for nicknames and shit,” Slash explained in his normal voice. _I should hold my guitar all the time. It gives me magical powers so I can speak,_ Slash thought. He drew it closer to his body.

“So what’s your vote?” Duff challenged him curiously.

Slash blinked, then smiled. “Welcome to Road Crew, Duff.”

“Fucking awesome, man!” Duff said, throwing his arms around Slash’s shoulders. “This is gonna be great. I’ll try and book us some gigs and stuff.”

“Well, we still need to find a singer.”

“Hey, my roommate sings. He wasn’t feeling well today, but I’ll be sure to bring him next time. He’s got a great fucking voice.”

“Cool. So, uh, you wanna keep jamming, or just… hang out?”

“Both. Besides, we’re going to be playing together and shit, so I’d like to get to know you.” Duff smiled, as Slash’s grin widened. “So you from L.A.?”

“No. I was born in the UK, but moved here when I was still young. I have an awesome dirt bike, but I like my guitar better.” Duff nodded as he listened to Slash’s slightly rushed soft voice as he rambled on about his life. “Steven and I got this band going, you know, and we want to be rock stars one day. He’s kind of a live wire from time to time, but he’s a good guy. And he’s a totally kick-ass drummer, and, oh, I have to show you this!” Slash dashed over to his bed and grabbed a yellow mahogany Spanish acoustic guitar. He tucked his legs under him as he leaped down to the floor beside Duff sitting cross-legged. “This was my first guitar ever. It only had one string on it when I got it, but I paid for it. Then this guy at the music store showed me how to put the others on and then I never gave my Mum a moment’s peace. I played this girl for hours.” He patted the Les Paul he had been playing with earlier. “I got this sweet child from my Mum last Christmas. It’s a Les Paul. I love them both, but, oh… sorry.”

“Naw, man. I told you I wanted to know more about you. I was listening and you obviously love your guitars. A guy could be jealous.” Duff said with a wink and a sly smirk.

Slash didn’t know whether to jump up and down, or wish for death. Maybe both?

“I want to know about you too,” Slash said, moving his fingers absently over his guitar. “Like what music you listen to, and where you’re from and stuff.”

“I’m a Seattle punk. Basically grew up on the Sex Pistols, Ramones, West Coast Punk circuit, you know? I’ve been in several bands like The Fartz, but I moved here to get away from all the drugs back home.”

“You like it here?” Slash asked.

“Yeah, it’s cool. Enjoying that it doesn’t rain as much like back home.”

“Yeah, sunny skies for beautiful sunny hairdos like yours.” Slash choked on his sentence when Duff shifted back. “Sorry.”

“Ha, don’t be.” Duff laughed lightly, letting his blonde tresses fall into his eyes. “I know I’m blonde _today_.”

Slash laughed, but his face disappeared under his curls again. He clutched his magical guitar closer to his chest, wishing he could say the right thing. He wished even harder he could be wittier. A warm hand sneaked under the curtain and gently clasped Slash’s chin.

“Why do you do that? Why do you always hide behind your hair like that?” Duff asked, drawing Slash’s face up, letting the black hair fall away. “You’re not ugly, man. You got bad teeth?” He pushed his thumb against the corner of Slash’s lips. Slash’s lips pulled away into an amused grin. “N-nope! So why do you hide?”

“Don’t know,” Slash whispered, shrugging. The rising heat from the pads of Duff’s thumbs felt good on his skin.

“You shouldn’t. You have pretty eyes,” Duff said, causing Slash to draw closer. He looked straight into Duff’s bright smile.

“Hey, rocker boys, let’s go to the Rainbow! I want to get fucked up!” Steven yelled, appearing out of nowhere. His hair was damp with sweat and drops of water. He’d apparently stuck his head under the kitchen faucet.

“Duff doesn’t do that shit, man.”

“Oh,” Steven said then smiled. “Then let’s go get drunk!”

“That I do, do.” Duff’s grin matched Steven’s in size.

“Yeah! Celebration for Duff’s arrival into the band!” Steven announced with a harsh clang of cymbals.

Slash vaguely wondered why Steven came back when he said he had to leave but in a weird way he was glad he did come back. He’d make it less awkward being around Duff, and Slash could learn more about the bassist.

 

…

“How the fuck aren’t you cold?” Tracii hissed, pulling his sleeveless denim vest tighter around his bare chest. He glared at Izzy who strolled nonchalantly beside him. Izzy laconically returned the gaze. Tracii’s eyes narrowed slightly when he caught the slight amusement in his lover’s eyes. _Fucking sadist._

“I don’t feel compelled to show off my tits like you do.” Izzy’s lips curled up into a full smirk around his cigarette.

Tracii wrinkled his nose, but a new thought crossed his mind. He asked. “Then why don’t you be fucking nice for once, and warm up your cold friend?” He slipped his arms around Izzy’s waist, strategically tickling the pleasure spots he knew so well on Izzy’s hips and sides.

Izzy giggled, and squirmed under the mischievous fingers. He stopped walking but didn’t push Tracii off right away. This made the other guitarist smile and continue to toy with him. Izzy buried his face in Tracii’s neck as the tickling turned into soft strokes up and down his sides. At times he reached back to pull his t-shirt down, but mostly he just leaned into the touch.

Only when soft whistles and a grunt of disapproval did Izzy move out of Tracii’s reach. He quickly looked around; fear was etching into his eyes. Guitar calloused hands cupped Izzy’s face, gently sweeping over his prominent cheekbones. Izzy found Tracii’s soft safe eyes smiling up at him and he instantly relaxed in their dreamy rock ‘n roll gaze. He leaned into the touch, enjoying the sensual pressure on his wind-chapped cheeks. His lips twitched into a playful devil may care smile as he decided to be the tease instead.

“Is that all you are?” Izzy purred deep in his throat, easing himself against the wiry man. “Friends?” He inhaled Tracii’s scent, paint from his day job, cigarettes and their pre-going out sex. “Because I thought you wanted more from me when I came to your latest fuck’s place and you sucked me off on the floor. I thought from the way you touched me, you wanted me in that way and every other way.”

“Is this your way of asking me out on a date, Stradlin?” Tracii asked as he wiggled his torso against Izzy’s denim jacket, relishing in the deep hard breaths rising and falling against his own. A tongue slipped from between his pursed pink lips to lick a long line up Izzy’s neck, ending with a pointed kiss on his chin. Tracii drew away to further tease him, but he was swiftly yanked back into Izzy’s chest, arms encasing him in a forceful embrace.

“No,” Izzy said. Tracii’s mouth twitched into a confused lopsided smirk as Izzy continued to whisper huskily, “I’m demanding you to suck me off, right now.”

“You do?” Tracii arched an unconvinced eyebrow. “You got spooked just two minutes ago when those people walked by.”

“They’ll just think you’re a pretty girl,” Izzy teased. His fingers slipped into Tracii’s belt loops and tugged him closer. “So what you say?”

“Mmm,” Tracii sighed. “As yummy as that sounds, darling, I really do have a friend you need to meet. Maybe after we could do a whole lot more than a quickie blowjob.” He winked.

“Then, I don’t want anything to do with you,” Izzy said, pushing the guitarist away, but letting his arms languidly drag along Tracii’s taught bare stomach.

“Hey, come on. I just got you back, and you’re dumping me, because I won’t drop to my knees, and blow you in the middle of the Rainbow’s parking lot!”

“Yes, exactly,” Izzy replied off offhandedly. Tracii’s jaw dropped, staring blankly at the man who started to walk away from him. Izzy turned then. Primal heat flickered in his eyes, as he looked at the pouty lips set in a hard line, glaring at him with desperation. He smiled playfully. “Not cold anymore are you?”

Blinking Tracii realized it was all a joke, the chill in his body long gone. Izzy laughed hysterically.

“You’re an asshole,” Tracii muttered and gave a shove to Izzy.

Izzy chuckled as he stumbled a little. Tracii caught his arm to ensure he didn’t fall. Izzy flicked away his burnt out cigarette and drew the smaller man into his body. He held him in a sweet embrace and started to nip at Tracii’s cheek. Tracii still pouted, though both knew it was nothing but an act. Tracii’s body was starting to hum in anticipation of Izzy being so near to him. He could feel the love peeling off until he was left with nothing but the raw loving Izzy he could always find even in the darkest days.

“You’re adorable when you’re mad.”

“That’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to saying I love you lately. You know that, darling?” Tracii cooed lovingly. He wiggled out of the snickering guitarist’s warm arms. “But don’t go getting all mushy on me now, Stradlin. You just have some damn kink for angry bottoms.”

“Hey, Trace.” A strong voice yelled from across the parking lot. Tracii planted a kiss on Izzy’s cheek before taking off across the pavement, not caring that his vest had fallen off his shoulders.

“Chris!” Tracii yelled, and jumped into the blonde’s arms.

Izzy stiffened when he saw how friendly the two looked with each other. He bent down to pick up the vest, but his eyes never left the new guy. His eyes roamed the blonde’s body, gritting his teeth as he watched him squeeze Tracii. The younger’s legs were wrapped around Chris’s torso and Chris didn’t look like he wanted to let go any time soon.

His torso was a broad chiseled shape, flowing up into a firm defined chest beneath his white t-shirt and pink leather jacket. Blazing white hair, teased high, accented with large gold bangle earrings puffed out from a top his head. There was something captivating about the way he looked, but he wasn’t going to trust him right off the bat, especially not when this blonde fuck had his boyfriend’s legs wrapped around his torso like that. Finally, he set Tracii down on the pavement and Izzy could check out the rest of him. A glittery purple scarf draped over his neck led Izzy’s eyes down to black leather pants, cinched in with a studded belt. His high-heeled boots matched his belt with rhinestones and sparkly studs. What intrigued Izzy the most was the guitar strapped to the guy’s back. He wanted it. He wanted to steal it.

Izzy continued to glare at him, and ignore Tracii’s wild high-speed chatter. Clutching Tracii’s vest in one hand, he walked up to the pair and pulled Tracii back into his chest. Tracii jerked at the sudden touch and force, but relaxed when he saw it was Izzy who was holding him. He didn’t miss the anger wafting off of him though. Tracii knew he needed to break the ice and ease the mounting tension before Izzy did something reckless or Chris felt the need to place hero over him. Normally Tracii liked being fought over, but not when it involved a good friend and his lover.

“Chris, this is my…hmm, what do you call him? He was my boyfriend. Then we weren’t. Then we were. Now… Now, I’m not so sure. Hmm. He is a person I believe. Person I know? Yeah, person I know, because he has a hang up over labels. Izzy Stradlin, Chris Weber,” Tracii introduced the pair.

“What’s up, dude?” Chris extended a hand. Izzy’s mouth hardened into a firm line, and ignored the outstretched hand.

“Izz, man, come on. Chris is cool. Don’t get all closed off, like you do, when I introduce you to my friends,” Tracii whined at Izzy’s typical surly demeanor when meeting new people. He lightly scratched Izzy’s chest to try and draw him out of his mood. Izzy just turned his glare to Tracii, though it softened a little. Tracii sighed and nuzzled his cheek against Izzy’s throat. He felt Izzy stiffen and Tracii rolled his eyes, but spoke tenderly to him“Chris knows about me, Izz. He knows about us, and the way I feel about you. You don’t have to be so guarded around him.” He started to play with Izzy’s necklace. “I know things haven’t worked out musically with you and other but I thought you two would have a good shot at making something. You’re two of the best musicians, songwriters, I know in L.A. I figured some sparks would fly and you guys would start a band, write a number one song, make lots of money, and give me a cut of the profits.” He grinned up at Izzy. “Or make me into a well-kept house pet who plays his guitar way too loud any way I want and let you fuck me any way you want.” Izzy remained stoic. Tracii sighed. “What the fuck ever! I’m going to get laid, because there’s way too much sexual tension right now and two thirds of it isn’t even directed at me!”

The boys watched Tracii take off toward the Rainbow’s door. Instantly, he was swooped up in a group of leather clad biker women. A couple strippers joined the group and they proceeded to walk in the restaurant. Izzy’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent. He next saw two familiar faces and one he knew was familiar but couldn’t quite place. The first two were Slash and Steven. The other was a tall guy with bright blue hair. He looked really familiar. Izzy found himself licking his lips as he watched the lanky man move along the sidewalk. His sheer top shimmered in the low streetlight and exposed his smooth chest.

“So, what do you play, or do you sing?” Chris asked.

Izzy’s eyes widened as he heard Chris’s voice and saw that the blonde hadn’t moved. He mumbled, _shit_ , and turned to leave. Chris caught his arm. His fingers were firm enough to hold Izzy in place, but not tight enough to restrain him without any way to break free. Izzy looked at the hand clasped around his elbow then back at Chris’s face. He was wondering why he hadn’t socked Chris right away. Did he want to get to know him? He glanced down at Chris’s lower body. He didn’t want to fuck him that was for sure. The tall blonde with Slash, or Slash himself maybe, definitely Tracii, but not this guy. Stealing that guitar was still enterprising. Maybe that was why he didn’t run off. Either way, Chris dropped his hold on Izzy’s arm and backed away.

“I didn’t want to come out here either,” he confessed, “but I promised Tracii three minutes and I still have a little over a minute to be here, so might as well talk. I owe it to Tracii.”

“And what is Tracii to you?” Izzy snapped.

“He’s like my little brother and good friend,” Chris stated bluntly. There was no room for speculation in his tone for Izzy to search. He asked undaunted by Izzy’s resting bitch-face. “What’s he to you?”

“My lover,” he replied curtly.

“You better treat him right. I’ll collect your balls if you don’t,” Chris threatened. He looked to the sky as if the time was written in the stars. “Well, seeing as how this meeting went so well, I’ll be off now.” He turned to leave.

“What’s your favorite band?” Izzy called after him. Something about the blonde made Izzy not want him to leave just yet.

Chris turned and took one step back in Izzy’s direction. “Aerosmith. New York Dolls. Hanoi Rocks. Hanoi Rocks is probably my all-time favorite.”

“Who’s Hanoi Rocks?” Izzy asked.

“You’ve never heard of Hanoi Rocks? Are you deaf or something?”

“No, but pretend I am,” Izzy replied sarcastically, but there was humor in his voice.

Chris smiled. “I’ve got an eight track of them. You can listen to them in my car.”

Izzy nodded and walked forward to get in line with Chris’s step. It wasn’t long until Chris turned to him and repeated his question, “So do you play or sing?”

“I don’t…” Izzy snapped, but softened when he saw the slight shock in Chris’s eyes. “…sing. I don’t sing.”

Chris nodded. As they neared his car, Chris drew the guitar from his back. Izzy’s attention snapped immediately to the instrument. It was nice. New. Izzy still plotted to steal it. The blonde’s leather cuffed fingers glided over the strings playing a fast, hard, and heavy riff. Izzy blinked in surprise. Swaying forward slightly, Izzy watched the shaggy blonde hair bob bang in the dark. A tiny red tongue absently flicked to the corner of Chris’s mouth in concentration.

 _His passion, it’s so much like him,_ Izzy thought, _it’s the dedication to the music, the energy, and the sheer recklessness._ He heard it all in the wail of Chris’s riff. Only one other person he had ever met, had ever excited Izzy in that way before. Yet, Izzy had left that person behind in another realm of the cruel world and shoved him out of the one he now inhabited. He wished that soul were still lost in the wilderness of grain and mountains, of machinery, with only a cross to guide him. Izzy could at least find him there. Now that pure soul was lost to L.A. and Izzy didn’t know every nook and cranny of the concrete jungle.

A small audience of girls clapped as Chris ended his rift, drawing Izzy from his thoughts. Chris flashed them a grin and saluted them. Some giggled, others walked closer. The boldest stroked his shoulder.

“Are you in a band?” She purred.

“Not at the moment,” Chris said to the brunette who smiled up at him. He cocked his head at Izzy. “All depends on this guy.”

“You should be. You’re like totally amazing,” a brunette responded and turned to Izzy. “You’re hot. You look like that guy from Hanoi Rocks.”

“Definitely!” Her friend added. “We’d totally go to a show if you guys played!”

“He’s in Hanoi Rocks,” the brunette insisted.

Having realized Chris had just completed his unannounced audition; Izzy grabbed him by the arm and pushed him to the driver’s door. Izzy drew close to him and whispered, “We’re going to write together.”

The blonde smiled at Izzy’s decisive tone, letting the sound of the girl’s protests fade away. “Cool, man.”

“Get in the car,” Izzy demanded and rounded the vehicle to get in the passenger’s side. He carefully moved the girls out of the way despite their protests and promises of a good time. Izzy’s brain was locked onto the music, everything else was second notice and he wasn’t even going to entertain the idea of new bed mates let alone anything else.

Chris wondered if it helped that they were girls, but decided against asking that question. He popped in his eight-track. Before cranking up the volume, he asked, “Izzy, is it?”

“Yeah, or Jeff.”

“You look more like a Jeff.”

“Should we bother looking for Tracii?” Chris asked suddenly looking around. The group of women had disappeared as well as the bohemian guitarist.

“Naw.” Izzy shook his head. “He has an uncanny habit of finding me wherever I am.”

“Sounds like trouble follows you a lot. My condolences,” Chris joked.

Izzy smirked, but mumbled, “Not the kind of trouble I want.” He shook his head as brief thoughts of Indiana flickered through his brain.

Chris drove fast and reckless. Izzy liked it. Reminded him of when he first met Tracii. He was a young, hot piece of ass. Izzy was new enough to the scene to let his walls down along with Tracii’s coaxing. Then Tracii started coming around more and Izzy liked that even more. He was like a drug. He started wanting Tracii more and more every time he left. The guitarist helped coax him out of the remaining shackles of his youth, and into his true identity in the wilds of California. The excitement, the rush, and then the long silver needle threading into his vein, it hit him like a train out of hell. Good and heavy, and sadly too temporary.

“So where you live?” Izzy yelled. The wind glowed neon as they breezed down the Strip.

“In a house on the outskirts of the city.” Chris quickly caught an exit to the Freeway. “You?”

“Tracii’s couch!” Izzy yelled back.

Izzy nodded, leaning to crank up the radio as AC/DC’s _Highway to Hell_ came on. The eight-track had stopped long ago. Izzy liked the sound and the two of them talked about it for a long time. Chris smirked. He swerved to change lanes and narrowly missed a larger car. Izzy sat unfazed in the passenger’s seat.

“You don’t scare easy.” Chris observed.

“Death isn’t the scariest thing in this world.”

“Only when you don’t love something enough to risk losing it,” Chris replied.

Izzy froze, staring at the blonde. Chris only shrugged one shoulder as he got off at the right exit for Tracii’s house. “Not the night for deep shit then. Sorry. Hell, you’re worth more alive than dead to me. Tracii would shoot me if I let anything happen to you. And we might actually make something of ourselves if we get a band going.”

Izzy studied Chris. He pointed to a one-story ranch style house as they drove along the suburban street. Chris gave a short laugh. “So you really have already moved in with Tracii, huh?” He turned off the engine and leaped across Izzy’s lap and swung his legs over the car door. “I’m surprised the guy hasn’t proposed to you yet. He talks about you nonstop some days.”

“He said anytime I needed a place,” Izzy said as he climbed out of the car. “Besides, we’re rarely here when we’re performing our marital duties.”

“That’s so sweet,” Chris mused, pulling his guitar from the back seat. “You actually go somewhere else to fuck, so his Mom won’t have to hear.”

“More like he’s incapable of being quiet during sex,” Izzy shot back, then glared. “Man, I’m not sweet. Shit, you make me sound like a damn chick.”

“You’d look good with blue in your hair, though.” Chris walked up the moonlit grey sidewalk. Bright green weeds sprouted up between the tiny cracks that choked the concrete of its intended completion.

“I’ll be sure to start growing blue hair tomorrow.”

“No need. We can do it ourselves.” Chris chucked a bottle of blue hair dye at him. Izzy’s jaw dropped. Chris laughed. “Dude, you didn’t think my hair is naturally Barbie white, did you?”

Izzy just smiled, fingering the beads on his necklace until he found the one that jutted out just the tiniest bit. He pulled it out and jiggled it in the lock until he heard a muffled rattle. Tapping the knob the lock, it snapped, and the door fell open. The rockers moved into the quaint cave-like living room. Though small, the place was warm and sheltered the wind burned musicians. The house had become a fortress, barren of the drugs and liquor littering the Strip’s nightscape. Tracii’s room was another story, but Izzy tried to sleep on the couch and fold the blankets every morning. He didn’t want to be a total leach.

“Lost your key?” Chris asked bemused as they walked into the house. The familiar soft musky smell flooded his nostrils as he walked further into the room. Pictures of Tracii when he was younger lined the walls. Butt naked with a wide happy grin on his face as he ran around the yard and played air guitar.

An unlit tarnishing silver menorah perched atop a lace doily over the piano. Beside it a photo album of black and white photographs laid open to a page where a young boy wearing a Yamaka stood in a black tux holding a girl’s hand. She was wearing a white hippie dress with a flower crown amongst her flaxen hair. Chris smiled recognizing Tracii’s parents and continued to the oversized furniture in the center of the living room.

“Usually Tracii just leaves the window open, but he forgot tonight because we… well, he was all over me,” Izzy said with a smirk. He looked over the bottle of hair dye. Chris nodded as he slid down into an armchair and started tuning his guitar. Izzy grabbed his own guitar more than ready to join Chris. He had “window-shopped” his ax sometime ago when he was out with Steven. The blonde had perfectly distracted the male employees at the music store and Izzy slid it into the empty case he had brought with him.

Izzy stroked out gritty notes, to accompany Chris’s salacious slides. Chris glanced at Izzy, smiling knowingly under his hair. His fingers sped up, stroking every whine and growl out of his guitar. Izzy matched Chris’s pace with his own pulsating tempo, but with slower flicks of his wrist.

Izzy’s head thrashed from side to side. Falling to his back, he thumped his boot hard against the floor in time with the beat. Chris rose to his feet, hovering over Izzy. Their musical bond was forming, growing stronger with each chord that wailed in the air.

“Rocker, roller!” Chris yelled.

“You know who we are!” Izzy sang back. They continued to sing random bits of lyrics while dueling and pushing the other into harder grinds and power slides. Both musicians drifted away from the hellish world, only to be born again in music.

“Rocker, roller, yeah!” Chris ended the jam session collapsing in the armchair. Beads of sweat dripped down their faces. A dull thud pounded against the door. Izzy laughed between gasps, jaw opening in a wide smile. He hadn’t had a rush like that since…

“Rocker, roller…” Chris panted, slinking off the armchair and onto Izzy’s pulsating body. “We’ll need more lyrics, but it’s a slick start man. And you know, you sing like a hard rock version of Bob?”

“You talking Dylan, man?”

“You know of another Bob who rocks that you sound like?” Chris teased.

Izzy stared at him. The way the music flew from his fingers as if he were born to do it. Izzy never thought he’d find someone that connected to the music again. It was different than when he and Slash had tried to jam. Slash only wanted one specific piece of him and it had nothing to do with his guitar or voice. It was exactly the same in his garage back home. He remembered watching William’s bruised lips sing powerfully with a heavenly pitch and a beautiful range to match. It was so hot to watch his lips sensually sing each syllable into the mock microphone.

“So you want to start a band?”

“Yeah, man.”

“Awesome. Now, who the hell do I remind you of?”

“What?”

“You’re staring at me like I’m a piece of meat. An old boyfriend?” Izzy’s eyes narrowed at Chris, who simply waved dismissively. “Tracii said you’re still getting used to saying you’re gay.”

“Bi,” Izzy shot back defensively. Chris gazed simply at him. Izzy sighed, “I’m from Indiana. That kind of shit didn’t fly too well back there.”

“Then fuck the label. You know who you are, and whoever the right person is go get ‘em. But I’m straight, so don’t pick me.”

Izzy cocked his head at Chris’s smile. There wasn’t a trace of mockery in his face and he was drumming his fingers on Izzy’s abdomen. “You’re not normal.”

“I’m friend with Tracii. What does that tell you about my level of normal?” Chris asked with a laugh. “Fuck, man, this is California. We have a whole neighborhood dedicated to that shit. But what the fuck ever, man. I just want to rock.”

“You do remind me a lot of him though.”

“Who was he?”

“He was a friend back in Lafayette. He had a passion for music and a voice like an angel. It’s the same fire I saw in you…it was all fucked up.”

“That’s the way that love shit always is,” Chris said thoughtfully after a long pause. “Is that what attracted you to Tracii?”

“We hooked up at the Troubadour, one of my first nights after I moved to L.A. He gives great blowjobs, you know. Well, I guess you don’t, but after he did that, I guess it all clicked. I’m a fucking gay, or bi-sexual asshole, and I was in love with my religious, crusade-leading, friend.”

“You’re not just using Tracii as a replacement, are you? I realize the kid is fucking hot, and I’ve heard he’s a hot freak in the sack, but I don’t ever want to see him hurt.”

Izzy peered at the blonde. His voice had taken on a hard edge though it was well masked by his friendly tone.

“No. After what I’ve been through, I would never put someone through that. I was honest with Tracii. We’ve been on again off again for a while, but now I’m back with him for keeps. I didn’t freak out when he went off those girls, because I acutally trust him to come home to me.” Izzy snorted, but gave a smile. “Funny. He really does. He’s given me room to experience things on my terms and at my pace. I let him have women, and he doesn’t give me strings, but recently I’ve felt more love for him than ever before. He’s just easy to love, and I do, and I don’t just mean as a fuck.”

“Okay,” Chris said with a nod, seeming to be pleased with that response. “So we’re going to start a band, right? We need a drummer, a bass player, and a singer. Tracii plays.”

“I don’t think he’s going to want to play bass.” Izzy grinned.

“Fine. I’ll play...”

“No!” Izzy yelled before Chris could finish his statement. Chris’s eyebrows shot up. “The way you play it fits my guitar and…I don’t want to screw you or anything.”

“Hey man, I’m not worried about that. Tracii would have my head if I tried. Not that I will.”

“Tracii said he doesn’t want to be fucking one of his band mates. We’re better as a bed mates than as band mates anyway.”

“Oh, good. The kid is getting smarter. So, you want rhythm or lead then?”

“Rhythm. I can focus more on writing.”

“Cool. I think I know a drummer, and bassists aren’t usually the brightest crayon in the world, so they shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“Just need to raid a church for a choir boy to sing for us.” Izzy chewed on his extinguishing cigarette.

“Got a lot of those too. Shouldn’t be too hard.” Chris clapped his shoulder, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. “So you really live here.”

“I sleep on Tracii’s couch.” Izzy shrugged.

“That must be hard on your back.”

“Naw. I sneak into Tracii’s room when his mom and dad fall asleep. Usually, they know that I do, and don’t really care. One time, his mom _made_ me sleep with Tracii, because I looked like shit one morning.”

“I thought you said you didn’t fuck when she was in the house.”

“We don’t. We sleep. Just in the same bed.”

“Man, just live with me.”

“Why?”

“Well duh, if we’re going to start writing together, we’d better start getting to know each other. And you can fuck Tracii anytime at my place. It’s big enough and my parents are rarely home. Come on. Get your shit.”

“Okay, I’m ready.” Izzy stood with his guitar.

“You travel light.” Chris laughed.

“I want to dye my hair blue,” Izzy said with a sly smile.

“Fuck yeah!” Chris yelled.

“Wait,” Izzy said suddenly, making Chris pause. “I should wait and tell Tracii.”

“Okay,” Chris said, frowning slightly perplexed.

“I don’t want to just leave him. We’re on-again.”

Chris nodded. “Okay, dude. We’ll hang out here until he gets home, but you know that might be a while if you turned him loose on the ladies.”

Izzy just shrugged and lit another cigarette.

…

“Hey, Tracii,” Slash slurred when he saw the younger guitarist headed in his direction.

“Slash, I’m really pissed at you!” Tracii exclaimed, shoving a finger in his face. Due to his inebriated state Tracii couldn’t hold a frown, but he was still angry.

“Wh-What did I do?” Slash slurred.

“You… know what you did! You tried to fuck my Izzy.”

“Oh, no, no, no. Um, Trace, I didn’t… it wasn’t like that… I mean, I...”

“Oh, yes, you did! Who wouldn’t want him? Izzy’s the fucking sex god of the Strip! Everyone wants him, but he’s with me. Not you! Got that?”

“Hey, guys!” A tall lanky blonde shouted. He tripped over his feet and collapsed on top of Slash, nearly bringing both of them flat on the floor. “Whoops.” The blonde comically tried to pull himself upright without leaning too much on Slash.

Slash burst out laughing as he held onto Duff’s arm, trying to swing from it. Still giggling, he fell on his butt/ Looking up he pushing his hair out of his eyes to better see Duff. He extended his arms and cried out in a high-pitched childlike voice, “Duffy! You found me!”

“Of course, I found you, Slashie,” Duff cooed and picked Slash up off the floor. He hugged him close, burying his nose in Slash’s tangled curls. Before he could let his intoxicated hands wander over Duff, he noticed Tracii staring at them. A peculiar smirk was on his lips.

“Hello!” Duff yelled in a voice louder than necessary and shoved a hand in Tracii’s face. “Name’s Duff.”

“Tracii Guns. Nice to meet you,” Tracii replied and then turned to Slash. “Well, Slash never mind what I was yelling at you about. Looks like you found your own to fuck. Have fun, boys!”

They watched Tracii wander away. Duff confused and Slash mortified as much as the whiskey would let him. Duff turned Slash to face him. “You found someone to fuck? What’s he talking about? Did you get a girlfriend?”

“Uh,” Slash stuttered. The music changed to an Aerosmith song. “Hey, Duff! Watch what I can do!” Slash walked to a clearer part of the bar and started his own take on the hopak. Squatting low, he leaped into the air splaying his arms and legs. Gaining more cheers and whistles from the crowd, and hopefully from Duff, he started changing up his steps. He alternated between doing one leg then the other, then both, then back to one. Duff did in fact cheer him on as he continued his dance and slung back several more shots before joining in the dancing. Duff couldn’t do the jump dance like Slash, but he could definitely shimmy in his drunken way.

At some point both musicians ceased dancing and were promptly making out. Slash’s hands held handfuls of Duff’s ass, squeezing and petting the rounded leather clad flesh. Duff’s fists were tangled in Slash’s curls as he sucked on those soft luscious lips. They took breaks to slam back some more alcohol than went right back to kissing and groping the other.

…

 

Mick just got done chatting up the Rainbow’s owners. He frequented the places that allowed upcoming rock bands to play for a reasonable rate. His plan was to get in good with them and then ask for a bigger discount when he finally got a band together. It also helped that he gave out his number and offered his services as a bartender if any of the staff fell ill.

As he meandered through the bar, he saw Taime Downe and Greg Steele talking with some girls. It surprised him slightly that Greg didn’t have Brent with him. Usually those two were inseparable, especially when it came time for drinks and late night bedtime fun. Mick remembered that early gig he had with Faster Pussycat as their guitar player. There music was too slow and not heavy enough for him so he quit. When he joined, he remembered Greg being with Taime, almost exclusively, but then Brent started flirting with Greg and soon lured him away from the blonde singer. It amazed Mick how Taime didn’t get pissed off at the pair. Maybe he was allowed to watch, videotape, or maybe even participate. Who knows? It didn’t matter either way to Mick. It did make him laugh that their replacement of him, Kelly, was the boy toy of the two guitarists. There was something about that band and the bass player that Mick didn’t understand.

As Mick turned to the exit, he found a short, hyper little guy in front of him.

“Hi!”

“Uh, hey,” Mick said taken off-guard.

“My name’s Tracii Guns. You used to play in Faster Pussycat, right?” Tracii asked.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Yeah, you played bass! You’re Mick right?”

“Yeah. What band did you say you were with?”

“I don’t have one yet. I’m putting one together. Would you like to be in it?”

“Who’s in it?”

“I’ve got some leads,” Tracii said convincingly. He launched into a long monologue of every band and guitarist who ever inspired him. Occasionally, he’d ask Mick for his but would find some way to draw the conversation back to Jimmy Page. Mick had to give him credit that he was able to do that.

As the conversation waned or rather when Tracii got to jittery to stand around and talk, he announced, “Come over to my place and jam some time. What’s your number?” Tracii pulled out a pen and grabbed a nearby cocktail napkin. When he held them both out to him, Mick noticed the multiple numbers; hearts, smiley faces, and crisscrosses that lined Tracii’s arm.

“Damn, kid. The ladies love you.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tracii said with a small smile. “I need to wash my arm before I go home otherwise I’d be in big trouble.”

“With the ‘rents? I get it.”

“No. My boyfriend.”

Mick froze mid stroke. _Are all the guys in these rock bands bi? I thought I was the only one. Well, me, and the Faster Pussycat orgy._

“Hey cool! One more digit and we have a whole phone number!” Tracii exclaimed and tapped the napkin impatiently.

Mick smiled and finished writing his number.

“I only join bands that make you perform blood rituals, you know that, right?”

Tracii froze then burst out laughing. “Cool! Blood brothers in music, I like it. Hey, maybe we could get matching tattoos that make it look like we’re bleeding or some other shit. Well. I got to jet. See you soon, Mick!”

Mick waved absently. He wasn’t entirely sure of what just happened, but he liked Tracii almost instantly. He had an infectious personality and he seemed to really dig some good music. Having decided he was done with the Rainbow scene, he headed outside. There was a row of motorcycles. A couple of girls guarded them. _Must be part of that biker group in there,_ Mick thought.

The one that really caught his eye was the one on her bike fucking Kelly Nickels. Kelly was bent over the handlebars, groaning and screaming as the girl made him come. It looked way too hot seeing this army brat of a woman fuck Kelly senseless. Then Mick noticed Brent in the bushes holding a small camera. He wondered whose idea it was. Faster had filthy minds, but that girl didn’t seem like the type to get fooled. He wondered if they enjoyed tricking out Kelly, but that didn’t make sense because the bassist would occasionally turn his head to the bushes and purse his lips.

 _Crazy fucks come out at night. I should pay a visit to a morgue so I can get someone pre- stiff_ , Mick thought with a laugh. He went about his rounds to the bars and clubs, wondering if Tracii would call.

…

 

 

Tracii waved to the girls as they drove off down his street. He felt good and high after their pot circle jerk in the boy’s room. As he unlocked the door, his mind drifted back to Izzy and it made him feel higher than the marijuana could. Izzy really did see him as his boyfriend again. The way he got jealous when Chris came over. Tracii honestly didn’t run to him like that to make Izzy jealous. He was just extra jittery. He did casually joke about the whole is Izzy his boyfriend to get him riled up a bit. He wanted to make sure it wasn’t just jealousy, but that Izzy was more accepting of the term in a public setting. The way Izzy tightened his hold on him when he made his joke seemed to cement his suspicions that Izzy did in fact love him. He knew he loved Izzy more than any other long-term hook up he’d ever had before. Tracii wanted to give himself fully to Izzy and he hoped Izzy was ready to have all of him. He never denied he could be a handful at times.

Not bothering with the lights, Tracii walked into his house, but tripped over two hard bodies. Groans followed by moans rose from the floor as he flicked on the lights. Izzy and Chris lay in a tangle of limbs and guitars. Tracii smiled, snickering slightly at the cuteness of the cuddly music partners. Chris was the perfect match for Izzy too. He was the one guy on the Strip Tracii fully trusted to not steal Izzy away from him.

“Fucking turn the light out, bitch,” Chris grumbled, and buried his head deeper into the couch pillow.

Izzy peeked out of one cracked eyelid. Seeing Tracii, he laid his arm to the side and gestured with his finger. “Come on. There’s room for your pretty ass, cowboy.”

Tracii’s face lit up as he flipped the switch and slid into Izzy’s welcoming body. Izzy instantly curled himself around the smaller guitarist. He loved the way Izzy’s arm always made him feel secure. It was like he was a born protector as well as Tracii’s lover. He smiled as he felt a sleepy hand pat and stroke his head. Tracii mewed and snuggled back into Izzy’s warm body, loving that the long limbs just re-positioned themselves to hold him that much closer. Izzy laid his face in the crook of Tracii’s neck. The heavenly scent of Izzy lulled him further into his eternal state of bliss. His eyes instantly felt heavy as his body relaxed fully into Izzy’s. He never wanted to leave this spot. With a little luck he would never have to.

“I love you, Tracii,” Izzy whispered.

Tracii’s eyes shot wide open. He squirmed and craned his neck so he could see Izzy’s face. Finally managing to meet his eyes, all he could see were soft slits of white in the dark room. A finger stroked his cheek and he heard a soft chuckle, but it wasn’t humorous.

“I’m sorry I ever made you doubt my love for you, pussycat,” Izzy said.

Tracii opened and closed his mouth. Only this man could render him speechless and he had done so several times before. Izzy laughed again and leaned forward to speak for both of them. He kissed him, letting his tongue slide in just the tiniest bit. Tracii matched the kiss, taking it deeper and climbing on top of Izzy. He held Tracii’s hips and accepted the passion that was dripping from Tracii’s body and hungry mouth. Loving every moment of it and giving Tracii everything he could.

“Fuck me, tiger, please,” Tracii gasped.

Izzy clasped his hands around Tracii’s lower waist and pulled him into his chest. Lifting him as he stood, he carried him to the bedroom. “I’ll make love to you, but that’s all I’m giving you tonight.”

Tracii’s grin shown brightly in the streetlight that peeked through the window blinds. “I’ll take it. I love you, too, Izzy. I love you so damn fucking much!”

Izzy mumbled something against Tracii’s neck as he laid Tracii out on his bed. Everything he felt for this kid was everything he had always wanted to feel with another human. He hovered low over Tracii’s body, looking him over as if seeing him in a new light. Tracii blushed and squirmed beneath him. To Tracii it felt like a lover’s gaze.

Izzy smiled at the soft excitement that danced on Tracii’s lips. Bowing his head he began to kiss and suck along the soft niche of Tracii’s waist. He hummed and teased Tracii with his tongue as he glided across his bare skin to another spot. Once there he proceeded to lavish his skin with soft suckles before continuing on his journey. Tracii arched and moaned as Izzy found every special place that made the younger guitarist that much hotter. His touch went deeper between his legs and closer to his most sensitive spot. Izzy continued past that to work him open.

Tracii opened his eyes and gasped as he felt the hot tongue lavish kiss upon kiss in that place down below. He tried to wiggle onto his belly, but Izzy placed a hand on his hip. Taking one leg in his hand, Izzy kissed the ankle before bending it up into Tracii’s torso. Tracii whimpered as his raised leg trembled and shook in Izzy’s grip. Izzy kissed up the backside of his thigh as he worked his hand under Tracii’s ass. The younger gladly raised his hips to help Izzy slide into him. He interlaced his arms around Izzy’s neck as he gyrated beneath him.

“I love you, Tracii,” Izzy said as he entered him.

Tracii barely felt any pain only love as he said those words. Throwing his head back, he thrust his hips forward, taking the rest of Izzy into himself. Izzy smiled and gently lifted Tracii’s head back to look at him. He locked their lips together in a warm kiss as he began to move. They parted to pant and stare at the other as the passion and heat coiling in their lower bellies built into the raw white intensity they had felt for one another before when they were intimate. This time the white passion was tinted with scarlet for the love Tracii felt seeping into his skin and saturating Izzy’s muscles as he continued to cradle and rock into Tracii. It burned Tracii’s body and set him on fire as Izzy’s passion rained down on him.

They never slowed only fell drifted back down to Earth on silver clouds. Their bodies still felt the rocking and pushing like they would feel the crashing of waves in the ocean. Izzy couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Collapsing and quickly rolling to one side, he tugged Tracii close to him. The other guitarist squirmed and reached behind him, only to be yanked off balance and into Izzy’s chest. Tracii chuckled.

“I love you, Izzy,” Tracii gasped as he wrapped his legs around Izzy squeezing him with what little strength was left in his boneless body.

“…love… Tracii…” Izzy mumbled deeply as he fell asleep in Tracii’s arms. Before he fully drifted off to sleep, he felt a thin material cover his and Tracii’s bodies. _Tracii covered me. I love…_   

…

 

Jeff continued his rhythmic tempo, matching Axl’s aggressive vocal chords with every exaggerated movement of his arms. Cymbals clanked and rattled as the snare beats increased in time with every reverberating note.

“Yeah!” William drew out his growl as he finished the song. Flashing Jeff a smile, he put down the hammer he used as a microphone and grabbed a towel. “That was fucking awesome, man!”

“Yeah, you got a good voice,” Jeff said.

“Have you always played drums that good?” He towel dried his hair that was beginning to collect moisture from the humidity.

“My grandma taught me. She was a drummer in a swing band.”

“That’s cool.” William nodded, stretching his arms long.

“Hey, you’re not wincing anymore,” observed Jeff.

William stared at him for a minute. “You’re right. I’m not. Thanks, Jeff.” He smiled then showing his teeth. They glowed against his cherry lips.

“Happy to help.” Jeff smiled.

“I want to thank you. I mean, really, thank you.” William moved closer to the flushed musician. Jeff’s breath caught as William crawled into his lap. Arms lacing around his shoulders, he placed petal soft kisses along Jeff’s trembling lips. Jeff remained stoic. He could feel the throbbing of William’s bruised lips. They trembled with pain, but maybe something more. Jeff didn’t return the kiss only because he didn’t want to pierce the cut skin and bloody them anymore than they already were.

William smiled, as he arched his neck to toss his Sun red hair off his neck. It was the one place that was left unblemished. Jeff leaned in, burying his nose in the delicate skin. Smiling against it, he inhaled the other boy’s scent before his tongue peeked out and slowly started to lick. William moaned, rocking into his torso. Jeff continued to lap at the pearly skin, his arms massaging William’s shoulders tenderly.

“Thank you, Izzy.”

Jeff jerked back, hitting his head against the wall. What had William called him? William grinned. “But you know this isn’t how it went, so wake up, Izzy. Izzy, Izzy…”

William drifted backwards from his arms, leaving Jeff with an unpleasant rush of cold air that sank into his bones. William stopped mid air as the familiar Bailey house encapsulated his ghostly body. Prisoner bars shot down from the heavens piercing his bones and anchoring him to the structure. William looked around wildly until his eyes found Jeff. They pleaded for help as the bars started to slowly recede into shadows with him entombed to their horrifying grip.

A door rose up just as Jeff lunged to his feet. He slammed into it with a hard thud, but quickly shook off the dizziness swirling in his head and pounded his fist on the cold iron. He begged desperately for whatever force was keeping William prisoner to let him go. There was a faint tapping at the window. Jeff turned to find an almost happy looking William waving gently at him. Blood was running down his head. One eye was swollen shut and his lips looked puffy and split open. A shadowy figure loomed in the room. Panic rose in Jeff’s body. Instantly he started wailing on the window, screaming for William to turn around, to run, to do something, anything. The red head just smiled serenely as he gazed out the window to look at a pleasant Midwest sunrise. William’s emerald eyes boring right through and past Jeffrey. The shadowy figure was spreading over the full expanse of the room, filling it with its sickening body. Still William remained stoic and blissfully ignorant of the impending danger.

Jeff couldn’t hit the wall anymore. Pressing his fingers against the glass, he leaned against it, letting his tears cascade over his cheeks. He looked directly at William who was all but gone from the window pain. Despite not being able to save him, Jeff prayed William would never feel an ounce of pain again.

“I’m sorry,” Jeff whispered against the glass. A soft thud broke him of his sadness. There was William’s hand pressed against the smoggy glass. The crucifix Jeff had crafted for him encircled his wrist like a shackle. The voice started again. The frightened voice from the first night started chanting in his head frantically like a hurt spirit, “Izzy, Izzy, Izzy…”

“Man, wake up!”

Izzy bolted upright, hitting his head against Tracii in the nose.

“Fuck, Izz,” Tracii groaned, clutching his nose. He shook his head. “You okay, tiger?”

“Tracii?” Izzy felt lost even as he said the familiar name of his lover. His eyes drifted to the dark bedroom window. No matter what window he looked out of, the endless night was the same, bleak and bitter. The dream had attached itself to his waking mind long ago and often attacked him while he slept. He avoided windows for a long time after he’d experienced it twice. It was the first time he had that dream in a long time, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. A haunting melancholy fell over him. _I’m sorry again, Bill_. He whispered silently to the endless night.

Tracii lit a joint and handed it to Izzy. “You want to talk about it?”

“I just want to forget,” Izzy mumbled taking a long drag off the hit. His fingers skimmed along Tracii’s bare hips. He tugged on him for a hug. Tracii quickly accepted and snuggled deeper into the embrace.

Tracii propped his chin on Izzy’s chest and asked, “Want to fuck?”

Izzy gave a laugh. “Yeah, but only if you fuck me.”

“Really?” Tracii’s eyebrow arched.

“Yeah, well, no,” Izzy said. He threaded his hands in Tracii’s messy hair. Bringing his face close, he said, “I want you to make love to me.”

“Damn boy, you’re romantic side is showing tonight. What the hell happened?”

“Just shut up and love me,” Izzy groaned.

Tracii kissed him sensually on the mouth. Pulling back his face was lit up like a Christmas tree. “Mm, of course, my love. Anything for you.”

…

Bill sat curled in the window of Duff’s apartment. He had hung several t-shirts to block most of the light, but remained near the pane of glass. He liked the thought that he could jump at any chance he got, just didn’t want any light to touch him. Duff had called him several times on his way to his audition to make sure he was okay. That made him smile and roll his eyes. He’d only been mugged. He didn’t get raped. Duff got there before any of that fucked up shit went down.

Still what happened to him shook him up worse than he even realized. Duff realized it, but Bill hadn’t yet. In his mind, he was still going over getting rejected by Jeff. Jeff had never rejected him. Ever. Yet he shoved him so violently out of the apartment the other day it was hard not to be affected by that. That as much as the one thug’s hands on his body shook him to his very bones.

Crooking a finger, he slid it between the small slit in his makeshift curtains. Peering out into the barren street below, he searched stupidly for Jeff. All he saw were some stupid suits walking to lunch. Bill felt stupid for even entertaining the idea of finding Jeff waiting in the gutter below. Just because he always found him back home didn’t mean he could find him here.

_Does Jeff hate me now? Why? Was it because I didn’t love him back home?_

Bill remembered how many times he found Jeff staring at him outside his window. Not in a creepy way. He was like a guardian angel; watching over him and helping Bill feel the sunlight after every black out of red and pain. Jeff always welcomed him into his arms as well as his heart. Bill had taken his arms, but shunned his heart. _Was that my problem? I didn’t let him in my heart and…? Fuck, Jeff. Why are you so fucking complicated?_

…


	6. Time Gone By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We were a secret?” Izzy asked. “What was the secret? What was the secret, Will? You never told me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and Happy Thursday the 13th!!

Izzy pedaled absently as he navigated the streets of the L.A. suburbs. So many thoughts were consuming his mind and heart that he had to force his body into a hard state of action. The once distant dreams invaded his waking thoughts with scenes of them playing out right in front of his very eyes. It had happened twice. Despite the stark contrast between the two, the last one made him wonder if there was still a chance with him. Izzy had stopped hoping for that long ago, but now he dared to hope just a little. Inside his stomach turned over in an agonizing leap of joy. Yet, he tried to squelch any happiness that threatened to leak from his heart. He didn’t know if he could repair himself if his heart broke again. Yet, his heart wasn’t very smart and it was letting the small silver lining in and trying to brighten it.

It was the second meeting that was doing him in. _He had come to me, not the other way around, but wasn’t that how it happened the first time?_ He wondered to himself. His brain felt like it was on overdrive, spinning round and round on the merry-go-round until it was too dizzy to think clearly. One minute his chest felt like it was swollen and would explode, the next he felt hollow and defeated. He shook slightly as his nervous system was raked with refreshed anxiety and excitement. He wondered if he would, or even should go back next week. They both promised to be meet back there. _Would he really be there like he said?_ So many promises had been made, so many broken. So much had transpired before they said a word when they saw each other. So much was still left unsaid.

 _Maybe that’s why I feel this way, because I need to say more of those things._ What those things were exactly he wasn’t sure. All he could be fully sure of was that his body was screaming out in agony as he continued to pedal down the street. He rose to his feet as he coasted down the street. His thighs shook and his arms trembled under his weight. He tried to ignore the good pain and feel the warm breeze cooling his perspiring skin. Despite his body’s responses, he didn’t feel like he could trust it.

The only thing he knew and could trust for sure was that Tracii’s house was the place he needed to be. The familiarity would do him good and he had to see Tracii that very second. He didn’t want to deal with anything his brain was trying to hash out. All he wanted to deal with was an armful of Tracii and for that guitarist he needed two hands at all times. That was simply perfect.

…

 

“No! Wait! I know it’s here! Jeff, please wait!” William screamed, falling over a chair as he reached for the shrinking figure. Jeff didn’t turn. He never did, but William swore that he saw the misted figure’s step faltered this time. If only he could reach him. He’d throw his arms around the Jeff’s waist and beg for forgiveness. Then Jeff wouldn’t leave him. He would hold him. William knew Jeff would, and William would have opened up to him. He would have showed him all those feelings that threatened to overtake him everyday with each breath he took.

Jeff faded faster. William ran harder, legs flying under him, but it was useless. The walls faded into the distance, as if he were running backwards. With a final scream, Jeff was gone.

Bill bolted awake with a violent jerk of his legs. A warm body shifted beside him. A sleep-heavy, paw-like hand brushed his cheek clumsily, mumbling reassurances. Craning his head, he found Duff’s sleepy eyes filled with concern.

In a way, Bill was happy to wake up with someone’s arms around him. Someone who would hold, and touch him, but his pious mind still rejected it. He hated the idea of another man coddling him. He was a guy for fuck’s sake. This wasn’t right, but the toned arms felt good and warm around his waist. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend the arms belonged to… No, he wouldn’t do that. Not again. He couldn’t. It wasn’t right. Shaking his head, to eradicate himself of that horrendous thought, he heard a voice.

“Are you okay?” Anxious sienna eyes questioned him, from behind matted blonde hair. Duff had dyed it again. The fumes made Bill dizzy, so Duff had told him this was the last time for a while, but then he went back and dyed a lock of his hair a dark almost charcoal gray color. Bill had laughed and sat in the open window.

“Mm fine,” Bill grumbled, pushing Duff away. The blonde watched Bill stand and stumble slightly from sleep. His body wasn’t fully awake yet. Bill winced when a stab of pain shot up his skin as he tried to pull on a t-shirt.

“Do you know who it was?” Duff asked.

“Never do.”

Duff let the subject drop. Then he beamed brightly, as he ruffled his bed head.

“Oh! Here.” Duff passed him a balled up napkin. Bill opened it, finding a blueberry muffin. “Before I quit, the pastry shop gave a muffins. A whole basket actually, but I remembered you said blueberry was your favorite so I swiped one for you.”

“And that was all you got for your work?” Bill asked, taking a huge bite.

“No, they paid me too.” Duff grinned sheepishly, pointing to a full bottle of vodka. “Just wanted to treat myself, and I also got some new guitar strings.” His face brightened even more. “Speaking of which, I found a band! They seem cool and they need a singer. Want to join?”

“I don’t sing,” Bill replied, around a full mouth.

“But you told me you did?” Duff cocked his head, confused.

“Did. That’s the opportune word there.” Bill whipped his head around, and then pushed his hair over his shoulders. “Where the fuck is my bandana?”

“It’s in the sink. There was a lot of blood on it,” Duff said with trepidation.

“Don’t ever, fucking, touch it again!” Bill screamed, ripping the sopping wet fabric from its water bath. He wrung it out, pausing slightly. “There was already blood on it.”

“I’m sorry,” Duff said apologetically. Bill sighed, looking at the tall lanky blonde. Duff’s eyes drooped, as he tucked his chin into his chest. _How can someone so big and powerful look so small,_ Bill wondered. He rolled his eyes, but placed a hand on Duff’s shoulder, causing the blonde to jump.

“Hey, man, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“I’m sorry too, dude,” Duff replied, then held out his hand. “I swear to you, I didn’t take this. I found it beside the dumpster in the alley.” He dropped Bill’s silver cross in his palm. “Must have slipped off your neck when the fighting started.”

Bill’s fingers danced along the chain. He wasn’t even a month old when he was baptized. Yet his parents gave him the silver chain, a persistent memory of the silver coins that Judas earned for betraying Christ. He had worn the reminder since he could remember. The cross…the cross came later. It was a present at his Confirmation, from the one person he never thought would give him something like this. Jeff.

Jeff had made it for him with his bare hands. He said he wanted to show respect for William’s faith, and that he would accept every aspect of him. Unfortunately, it only added to William’s guilt.

“Thank you for finding it, Duff,” Bill said as he walked to the other side of the room, “but I’m done with this. I’m done with my past.”

Duff watched Bill throw the necklace into the trashcan and walk away. He wanted to protest, but all words died on his tongue. Bill was closing himself off from him and he didn’t want the talented singer to do that.

“So, uh,” Duff began, trying to find something to draw Bill out of his somber stint. “Do you want to come with me to check out the band later?”

“Naw, you go, and report back to me. Let me know if they’re cool or just a bunch of lame ass posers. I’m gonna go make some money.”

Duff nodded, knowing that Bill needed to deal with some stuff that wasn’t his problems to help with yet. He wanted to help, but Bill needed to come to some decision before he could. Duff was okay with that.

…

 

The bright and shiny Sunset Strip still didn’t glimmer like the beacon that had illuminated the TV screens back home. Nonetheless, California was bright. Random rockers lined the gutters watching and waiting for a suit to stroll up and offer them a contract. In the tedium, they’d scope out the strippers, hoping they’d buy them food or give them head, whichever came first. A couple of the bands walked funny when they came out of the tall buildings. That made Bill bristle and quicken his step.

Nobody was hiring. Again. The stores were walls of cold reflective shop windows that bore nothing but streaks from window cleaner. Bill grew bored and more agitated with each step until he came to a telephone pole, littered with paper graffiti. Rancid colors encircled the wooden column flashing garishly in the harsh afternoon sun. One pamphlet stuck out to him. Pristine crisp typeface set on a pungent white paper, perfectly straight edges, and meticulously stapled to the pole.

Frowning slightly, he tore it off the pole to read it. _UCLA’s medical school conducting a study on smoking. Need human test subjects. $8/hour. Free lunch._ Bill was sold on the promise of money and a free lunch. Not because of the immaculate achievements of graphic design the flyer exuded and caught the next bus to the university.

Walking into the sterile clinic was like venturing into an uncharted jungle. Clammy and stuffy, the waiting room was bare save for a couple med students studying quietly. The receptionist, though nice, was formal and stiff.

Bill hated the lingering presence of death that wafted in the air. People entered hospitals, but only a few could navigate the way back out again. Trying to push the unease out of his mind, he set to work filling out the medical form as best he could. He grew bored of that and decided to make most of it up, including his name. AXL. He wrote that name and then looked at it. He wasn’t sure why or where he came up with that name, but he kind of liked it. Fearing attention for a weird name, he scratched it out and replaced it with Bailey.

Once done, he walked around the waiting room, staring at the dreary sand colored walls that attempted to bring some warmth in this god-forsaken place. Poorly designed abstract paintings draped lifelessly on the decaying walls. When he first got to L.A., he was told the city was a jungle and he was going to die. Biting his lip, he wondered if the premonition was coming true. Was he dead? No. Shit, he didn’t believe that voodoo shit. He was a Christian... no he couldn’t be that either, could he? His hand flew to his shirt collar. He wasn’t wearing his cross anymore. He’d thrown it away. Despite giving up some of his beliefs it made him even more nervous not to be wearing it.

Tracing his fingertips along his naked flesh, his gaze fell to the children’s corner. Two little boys sat next to each other, building block structures before knocking them over with their trucks. They were nestled among a canopy of vivid primary colored walls and exciting paintings.

He liked the paintings in the children’s section better, pictures of safaris and rain forests. Animals roamed the canvases in their sheer, raw beauty, untouched by human hands, or society. This was art Bill could relate to. _The world is a jungle,_ he thought. Sometimes, all he wanted to do was drift away into the secluded underbrush. In a way he had done just that when he left home.

One of the boys playing laid his head against the other’s shoulder, coughing slightly. The other patted his head, as he tried to distract him with the fire engine. Their moms smiled at the pair as they talked. The boys were so happy together. No one ripped them apart.

“Fucking shit!” Bill yelled. The room turned on him, alarmed.

“Bailey Thompson?” He stood up. The med student who had spoken just nodded. “This way please.” He followed her to room number 101.

A small gathering of people were scattered about the room. Some were glam rockers, UCLA students, and still others looked like reputable members of society. Bill glanced over the people with little interest save for one.

A cobalt shadow gleamed in the thick sterile air. The thin figure leaned thoughtfully against the floor-length window. A cigarette dangled at his skinny thigh. A sheen of blue danced in his black hair beneath a cowboy hat.

Bill nodded intermittently at the med student who explained the case study, but his focus kept drifting to the cowboy. Smiling to himself, the man looked like something he and Jeff used to dress up as to get sent home from school early. The ripped black pants were tight and disappeared into heeled worn out boots. A loose thrift store blazer hung over the boy’s thin frame. When he shifted his weight Bill saw a flash of a pink scarf, and a black and white Marilyn Monroe t-shirt.

“All right Mr. Thompson, do you need anything else?”

Bill shook his head. The med student nodded and left.

Bill hit the box against the palm of his hand before pushing one up, catching it with his lips. Flicking the lighter, he inhaled the sweet tobacco. Silent as the night wind, the rail thin cowboy appeared beside him. Reaching out a slender hand, the cowboy took a box. Tapping it three times against his thigh, he then tore it open with his teeth. The simple gesture of his movements eradicated any doubt from Bill’s spinning mind.

“Jeffrey,” Bill said, in a low voice that was several octaves deeper than most of his singing voices.

Cold umber eyes flickered up. As they met Bill’s, their body's tensed. Turning, the cowboy looked at Bill curiously. His jaw clenched, but his eyes started to dance with excitement.

 _This is a good sign. He recognizes me,_ Bill thought. The cowboy started to back up, but Bill quickly grabbed his hand. Surprise finally came over his face as he saw their interlaced hands. He didn’t want him to leave, despite forsaking him earlier and getting shoved out of the room. Jeff didn’t move, though looked uneasy. His gaze passed slowly between their hands and Bill’s face. Bill could see the other start to shake slightly and squeezed his hand reassuringly. It was the same way Jeff did it to keep Bill from being too scared.

“William,” Jeff finally said.

The voice was still the same sultry ragged voice Bill remembered, but different and raspier. A smile cracked like a bolt of electricity over Bill’s lips. He forced himself to suppress an excited whimper as those dark eyes warmed his soul when he saw the flecks of sienna ignite.

“Well, fuck, dude, as long as you don’t puch me out of this room, you know I don’t bite,” Bill chided.

Izzy laughed as he threw his arms around Bill’s neck and drew him into his chest. Bill hugged back feverously, running his hands through Izzy’s dyed hair. The cowboy hat fell to the ground. William’s dream had come true. He hadn’t been shunned by Jeff again and he finally he saw Jeff’s reaction. Burying his nose deeper in the wild dyed mane, his cheek brushed a large hoop earring, Bill found that odd, but he still exhaled happily. Jeff didn’t smell like fresh air and stolen bourbon. His scent was harder, more powerful, but he could pick out a small trace of his Jeff. Bill did not just say that.

Jeff pulled away to flip off the person who cleared their throat at them. Bill’s eyes flickered between the two slightly bewildered.

“I know. We’d get worse if we were back home.” Jeff smirked.

“Hell no,” Bill mumbled, not letting his grip slacken from Jeff’s biceps. He yelled loudly, “Go fuck yourself!” Turning back to Jeff. “You look… different.”

Jeff smiled. “I like it.”

“You look like a chick or a gypsy.”

“That a compliment?” Jeff teased. Bill shrugged, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. “Hey, let’s grab those recliners.” The two quickly jumped into the sagging leather chairs, draping their limbs over the arm rests like kings.

“So when did you become a cowboy?” Bill asked, knocking Jeff’s cowboy hat off again with a swift kick. Jeff grinned as he leaned down to pick it up. His smile illuminated his brown eyes, removing any grime from the porcelain orbs. Bill liked that. Jeff smashed the hat down over Bill’s head, covering his eyes. Bill didn’t like that.

“I was going for a sort of glam Jungle Jim.”

“I remember that show,” Bill said, readjusting the hat so he looked like an outlaw. Dropping his voice to a low southern grumble, he said, “We used to watch it at your house, since my Dad hated TV. Always sucked when the electricity went out though.”

“Those were some of my favorite times, Will,” Jeff said. _When you were in my bed, and no matter how hard the thunder pounded the house, you remained at my side, curled against my hip. In my arms, we made each other stronger, happier._ “Bet you loved the paintings out in the children’s area.”

“Yeah, they reminded me a lot of that show. I watched you… there were kids playing with some toys and shit.”

“I don’t remember the toys, but I remember you did love animals. Well, except snakes. You still want kids, William?”

“Don’t call me William anymore. That fuck’s dead and gone. I’m Axl now.”

“I like William,” Jeff replied sincerely and earning himself a hard glare from Bill. Izzy rolled his eyes. “Fine. Then you have to call me Izzy Stradlin.”

“What is that your stripper name?” Axl asked. Izzy cocked a curious brow, the whites of his eyes illuminating in the glow of his lighter.

“I don’t strip.”

“Too bad,” Axl drawled softly. He peered out of the corner of his eye to watch Izzy’s reaction. Izzy had a hazy smile on his lips, but otherwise wasn’t perturbed by Axl’s comment.

“My name came from a cowboy I found in a bar.”

“Ha! So a stripper named you! And hey! I fucking called you Izzy before anyone else did! So you must still be seeing imaginary people, Izz.” Axl snickered, pushing Izzy’s shoulder. Izzy kicked him, but laughed along with Axl.

“Haven’t been in L.A. long, have you? Seeing a cowboy is pretty normal around here. Seeing a nun, now that is unusual.” Izzy grinned mischievously.

“Those nuns were damn scary in school with their fucking yard sticks.”

“High school wasn’t much better. Same fucking kids, same fucking attitudes, same fucking rules,” Izzy said. “Anyone burn it down yet?”

“The school or the church?” Axl asked with a sly smirk, completely unaware his fingers kept tugging at the top button of his shirt.

Izzy’s fingers touched the base of Axl’s neck, creeping under his shirt collar. Axl pressed his lips together harder to still the soft moan that danced on the tip of his cherry mouth.

“You finally gave up on religion?” Izzy asked, withdrawing his hand.

“The fuck you care!” Axl snapped.

“I don’t. I told you when I…” Izzy sighed. He mumbled ‘fuck’ and turned away. Axl pulled the hat down lower, trying to shield himself from the outside world again.

“I still have it, you know,” Axl said as he reached into his pocket. “You can have this back.”

“My bandana?” Izzy murmured, fingers traversing the fabric. “And you claimed you hadn’t seen it, asshole!”

“I’m a liar, blow me,” Axl replied. Izzy’s eyes flew wide. Realizing what he said, Axl kicked Izzy off the chair with his boot. Izzy picked himself off the floor and leapt into Axl’s lap.

“Get off. You’re heavy,” Axl moaned.

“Not until you take this back.” Izzy held out the bandana.

“Why should I?”

“Because I said so,” Izzy replied, wiggling around.

“Fine, whatever. Now get off!” Axl grabbed the bandana and tried to push Izzy off, but he just clung tighter. With a laugh and a sneaky smooch on the cheek, Izzy untangled his arms from Axl’s neck and slid off his lap.

“What made you come here?” Izzy asked after a few moments of pregnant silence.

“Just did,” Axl responded. The pair fell into a charged silence. The air between them crackled and spit with energy, but neither could harness it yet. Neither knew exactly what else to say. Both grabbed for another cigarette. Fingers brushed the others, but they both each pretended not to notice. Their blushes told otherwise.

“So, you have a place to live?” Izzy ventured.

“Yeah. I’m staying with a musician I met when I first got here.”

“Tall, gangly, blonde guy,” Izzy mused, his fingers flicked the ashes from his cigarette.

“How did you know he was blonde?” Axl frowned.

“Peroxide is plentiful on the strip. That, and aqua net, ” Izzy said with a shrug. Axl rolled his eyes. Something had visibly shaken Izzy. He could tell, especially when the wise ass was sarcastic. It was usually a dead giveaway. “Plus he’s the one guy who fucks up his dye job. That’s why you have strippers help you out with it.”

It was Axl’s turn to be shaken. _Was Izzy keeping tabs on him? Did he follow him home?_ Neither had the courage to breach the subject of their first meeting. Yet, Axl felt he needed to say something. He couldn’t ask Izzy that yet, so he asked, “So, are you a drummer in a rock band yet?”

“No. My kit got stolen out of my car a year ago. I play rhythm guitar now.”

“Good, we can write together.”

“What?”

“You always wrote decent shit in English class when we had our poetry unit.”  
            _So did you. You just never turned your shit in_ , Izzy thought with the faintest smirk. He remembered sneaking peaks at the poems when Axl had fallen asleep. They were the most beautiful words he’d ever read.

“I don’t want to know what you’re thinking.” Axl shook his head, knowing that trace of a smile.

“You still sing?” Izzy asked, trying to get back to their favorite subject. Music.

“Yeah.”

“I’m in a band. We need a singer.”

“Where do you want me?”

Izzy cocked his eyebrow puckishly. Before Axl could groan in disgust, Izzy said, “Gimme your arm.” Axl glared. Izzy smirked. “You always lost your school papers, so why the hell would I trust you with a piece of paper?”

“I never wrote a paper,” Axl pointed out. Izzy grinned, holding the cigarette away from his hair. Axl mumbled something incoherent.

“Secrets, secrets, are no fun,” Izzy teased.

“That’s all we were, Jeff.”

“We were a secret?” Izzy asked. “What was the secret, Will? You never told me.” Izzy studied Axl, but the red head’s face remained poker straight. Tapping his arm, Axl huffed impatiently. Izzy rolled his eyes, quickly pricking Axl’s arm with the point of the ink pen. When he was done, Axl looked over the address imprinted on his arm.

Izzy leaned back, draping a long leg over the arm of his chair, exhaling smoke from his cigarette. Axl knew Izzy would fade into the calm silence. The kind of silence the ‘quiet’ Axl loved to envelope himself in. The serenity of it was the ultimate escape from his home and his own tortured mind.

Watching Izzy lounge sedately in the chair, he bit back a smile. The tight t-shirt hugged his friend’s chest perfectly. Staring harder, he could almost see Izzy’s tiny nipples poking out…No. Axl wasn’t going to check out his friend’s nipples, again.

“Tony and Jill got hitched right out of high school,” Axl said, breaking the silence. He had been in silence for too long. He wanted more from his life. He wanted light, and piercing cries of passion, and to escape the haunting phantoms of his past.

“I give it a year,” Izzy said, exhaling a puff of smoke.

“She got his house, the kids, and his brand new car, a week before I left.”

“Well fuck, I should have put money on that one.” Izzy laughed, slapping his knee. With that encouraging laugh the silence lifted, and the two friends continued talking about old times.

…

“…And then he said, paint my house!” Duff finished.

Slash laughed loudly, knocking over his empty bottle of Jack. It crashed to the floor unnoticed. Duff grinned at him as he slammed back two more shots of vodka at once. He turned around to face the bar and that’s when Slash made his move. Slipping in between Duff and the bar, their lips met. Duff looked shocked but didn’t pull back. Slash wrapped an arm around the taller kid and pulled him close, kissing him as best he could in his inebriated state. He moaned as he felt Duff’s mouth reciprocate the touch. Duff’s lips were wet and soft, thinner than Slash’s, but they seemed to want to swallow Slash whole.

Slash found himself being pulled away from the bar top and pressed into the lithe body. Hands were in his hair, smoothing it back from his face. The blunt fingernails raking over his scalp made Slash drowsy with contentment. Still keeping a firm grip on Duff’s t-shirt, he laced his other arm around him. It fell from his spine right down to Duff’s ass. Slash’s eyes widened as he felt the firm muscle beneath his hand and gave a hard squeeze. Duff jumped in surprise before leaning forward and moaning, “Do that again.”

Instead, Slash spanked him earning himself a nice twitch of Duff’s ass muscles and a mumbled, “fuck you.” Slash laughed and promptly used both hands to squeeze and stroked Duff’s ass. The blonde retaliated by pushing his hips into Slash’s wanton crotch and rolling them just enough to drive the shorter crazy. Slash wiggled but continued to tease his ass, keeping Duff in a back and forth rhythmic swaying of adulterous lust. He could tell Duff was loving the way he groped him but also loved the way he felt when he rubbed against Slash’s crotch building his erection and his desire. Duff’s hands slid down to Slash’s waist, but then…

Slash woke up with a jolt, fully hard, and in a cold sweat. _That was one hell of a night!_ He thought as he took himself in his hand and started pumping. Flashes of Duff ran through his mind as he worked himself. Within seconds he was coating his hand and groaning Duff’s name as he thought of that perfect ass. It was almost ladylike, but so much better. The prefect amount of roundness, yet supple and spank-able, all things Slash loved in his boy’s features. He lay there for a while just basking in the afterglow of his morning, or afternoon if you went by the clock, orgasm. Realizing his head was pounding he rolled to the side with a groan. Despite his head throbbing, he grabbed the phone and punched in a number.

“Hello?” Came the sleepy voice on the other end of the phone.

“Hey, Duffy,” Slash said, trying to sound not hungover. _Did I just call him, Duff?_

“Uh hey, Slash,” Duff said. His tone was weird and rather distant. Slash didn’t know what to say so the two sat in an awkward silence. He wondered why Duff wasn’t responding the same way he responded to him last night.

“What’s going on?” Duff finally asked with a large yawn.

“Not much. Just wanted to say what a great time I had last night. We should do it again.”

“Oh yeah,” Duff said softly. “Um, could you remind me what all we did? I remember drinking, but after that I think I zoned out.”

_What? Duff doesn’t remember anything? Did we even really fuck?_

“Slash? Slash, are you there?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I’m here. Uh, hey, I have call waiting. I’ll see you at practice.” Slash didn’t wait for a response. He hung up and dialed Steven’s number. With a quick exchange with his mom, he heard Steven mutter a hello.

“Steven! You got to tell me what happened last night!”

“We got drunk you dumb ass.”

“No! Steven, don’t hang up. Answer me. Did Duff and I fuck?”

“The fuck would you ask me that for? You guys both got fucking hammered and then tried to dance together. Then you stumbled to the bar and you kept trying to grab his ass and paw at him until you passed out. He helped me cart you into the back seat of the car, and then he split,” Steven said.

“You mean we didn’t... It was just a dream.”

“Yeah, but man you should of seen this girl I was with. She was hot as…”

Slash hung up. He didn’t let Steven finish. The phone rang, but he didn’t bother picking up the receiver. He didn’t want to talk to Steven or Duff. He just wanted to take a shower and then maybe go find Tracii. Suddenly his guitar didn’t turn him on like it usually did. He didn’t know why he felt like he was dumped but he did. The phone rang again, but Slash just stumbled to the bathroom, ignoring the sound.

…

At the end of the day, the Indianans stood outside the clinic. Izzy kept his hands in his pockets. Axl kept the black cowboy hat low, obscuring his face from view.

“Well, man, I gotta split. See you around, okay?”

Axl nodded, realizing Izzy was literally leaving again.

“Jeff!”

“We’re using our old names again? I thought we had new ones.” Izzy turned.

“Habit. I’ll… I’ll see you around,” Axl said smugly. His dream had come true again. A few quick steps, and his arms were hugging Izzy’s angular body to his own. Izzy patted his shoulder, rubbing it slightly.

“Yeah. I hope you do, mama.” He whispered the last word. Axl drew away as the two walked in opposite directions. Izzy descended into the cold forbidden underbelly, Axl wasn’t yet a part of. Axl trotted into the un-glamorous barren streets of the Sunset Strip. Each not yet seeing the vines they had tangled themselves in, but they felt its force and presence in their lives. The web of their heartstrings was starting to weave together again and was pulling them back together.

…

Tracii tripped over his balled up jeans and fell to the floor. He cursed, and proceeded to fight with the rogue denim. Balancing on his shoulder blades, he raised his hips and wiggled back and forth until they connected with his crotch. The doorbell rang again. With a scowl, Tracii flipped the door off and buttoned his jeans. He was rarely clothed when he was at home, but ever since his nana had walked in on him butt naked last week, he always made sure to at least have pants on when he answered the door. Wrenching said door open; his scowl instantly vanished and was replaced by a look of surprise. Standing in the doorway was his sweat-drenched boyfriend.

Izzy’s black t-shirt was severel shades darker and now clung to his body like a second skin. His fringed bangs were plastered to his face, and his skin looked flushed with red heat. Tracii was kind of turned on by this look, but more surprised that Izzy was at his house. Especially since he had moved in with Chris. It didn’t bother Tracii. He was happy that Izzy was getting more serious again with his music. Tracii wasn’t the jealous type, but he also knew Chris would keep an eye on Izzy and not just his sex life. Chris had even offered to have Tracii over at his place as many times as he wanted. Tracii had been assured that those visits would include late night sleepovers. The surprise was the state in which Izzy stood in front of him. Not knowing what else to say, he stuttered, “Izzy?”

“Why are you so surprised?” Izzy asked with a cock of his head. “I am your boyfriend and it is Friday night. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Why…” Tracii began, but then glanced up and down the street. “You didn’t ride your bike _all_ the way here to my house did you?”

“I’ve made longer trecks before and in rougher terrain,” Izzy replied simply with a shrug. He nudged the bike forward a little. “Ride?”

“Are you serious?” Tracii asked.

“Oh, I forgot,” Izzy said in a nonchalant tone, but he tried to hide his smile. “You like my ass so much, you probably want to ride on the back. Am I right?”

Tracii laughed then flashed Izzy a teasing smirk. “If you’re offering, I’d love to ride your ass!”

Izzy’s arm shot forward. Grabbing Tracii’s neck, he pulled him in for a deep kiss. Tracii moaned into his lips, kissing back as soon as his head stopped swimming with the sudden rush of desire coiling in his belly. He leaned into Izzy’s body, purring when he felt Izzy’s other arm curl around the small of his back. His hips instinctively undulated against his sodden body. Izzy kneaded his neck as he continued to explore Tracii’s wide-open mouth. The kiss was hot, despite the small trickle of saliva sliding down the corner of their mouths. Their tongues, lips, and arms were wrapped around each other, not wanting to let go. Tracii’s clenched hands were twisting themselves in Izzy’s shirt as if clutching on for dear life.

With an annoying jerk, the pair parted to fill their lungs with air. They remained fastened together by the sweat now seeping into Tracii’s bare skin. Tracii coughed slightly and laid his head in the crook of Izzy’s neck, mumbling, “god.”

“I missed you, Tracii,” Izzy whispered in his ear, letting his lips touch his skin as he spoke. “Do you hate me that I moved out?”

“No. Not at all,” Tracii said, craning his head to look at him.

Izzy nearly died on the spot when he saw those wide sincere eyes gazing up at him. He tightened his already bone crushing embrace on Tracii and kissed him again. Tracii rose to the balls of his feet and hooked a leg around Izzy’s waist. Izzy scooped him up and placed him on the handlebars as they continued to kiss. It was slightly slower this time since Izzy was worried Tracii would fall, but the smaller boy just tightened his rib splitting grip on Izzy’s waist. He wormed his hands between their chests to fondle Izzy’s nipples as Izzy moaned and stroke his thighs.

“So what do you want to do?” Izzy asked between kisses. When he heard a confused noise pass from Tracii’s lips, he added with an amused chuckle, “Besides feel each other up.”

“What do you want to do?” Tracii asked, his fingers were under his shirt, teasing every bit of sensitivity out of the pointed nubs.

“Mm, fuck…”

Tracii laughed against Izzy’s lips. “Yeah, we can fuck. What else?”

“I asked you first,” Izzy growled. Finally building up the resistance, he shoved him back. Still holding him securely, he said, “We _will_ fuck, but first I want to take you somewhere. I want to take you on a date. A real date.”

Tracii beamed and threw his arms around Izzy’s shoulders. Izzy’s resistance crumbled.

…

Phil pushed the hair out of his eyes and flung his head back to let it cascade over his sweat clicked back. Arching his body, he rested his chin on his should to flash Steve a saucy smile. Steve cursed at the tease he held balanced in his arms and on one leg, and made sure to slam into him extra hard. The vocalist gasped and arched up over the bricks with a surprised cry. Steve caught him before he could tumble off his thigh, but was only rewarded with a soft laugh.

Holding him by the hips, Steve paused. He wanted Phil so badly ever since the first time they hooked up, but he wanted to hear the vocalist use that pretty voice of his to beg not just laugh to ask him for a good fuck. Phil wiggled around his perch on Steve’s thigh to whimper prettily at him. Steve leaned forward and kissed him. Phil gladly opened his mouth to him and ran his fingers through Steve’s hair sprayed locks. Being too far too wrapped up in his own need, Steve accepted that as begging. He cupped Phil’s neck as he readjusted his grip on Phil’s hips and started to explore his body more. Phil moaned and began undulating against his body as Steve searched for the perfect spot where he knew Phil wanted to be touched.

Phil took the pleasure in stride, stretching himself out like a cat over the bricks in front of him only to fall back against Steve’s rock hard body. His ass rubbed against Steve’s belly as he took more of Steve inside him. Steve softly growled in his ear as he nibbled his neck. Phil practically purred as the drummer ran his hands down and over his chest to tease and toy with his body. The movement came to a pause when Steve’s hand enclosed around Phil’s dick. Steve’s knuckles scraped the bricks, but Phil’s erection remained cocked, loaded, and protected. Steve just wanted an excuse to touch more of the vocalist. He growled appreciatively into Phil’s neck as he felt the warmth of Phil’s cum leak over his fist.

“Fuck, that’s perfect, love,” Phil gasped as he was rocked and maneuvered between to states of sheer pleasure.

“You’re fucking hot,” Steve hissed in reply, focusing on the tempo.

Steve gripped Phil tighter as he increased the tempo. Enjoying the drummer’s natural rhythm, Phil fell into it with ease, working with him to find the peak of the building pleasure. Gasping and panting, he gave a cry as he came. His back arched and his head fell back in ecstasy letting his long hair softly whip Steve’s face. Steve grabbed Phil to keep him straight and pumped harder to push himself over the edge and let his release flood Phil’s body. With a hiss and moan, Steve came watching the muscles in Phil’s back shudder as the other man held on to the bricks as he came down from his own orgasm.

Steve clutched him securely to his chest, so he wouldn’t get bruised or scraped by the bricks he’d shoved him up against when they met up in the alley. He didn’t want to see any marks on Phil’s flawless skin. Their bodies were slick with sweat and spent desire. Breathing eradicate, they panted against each other in a messy tangle of limbs. As Steve came to feel his legs securely on the concrete, he eased Phil down. He placed a kiss on his shoulder, before reaching down to find the waistband of his pants. He kissed up the shaky vocalist’s sides and ribs as he pulled the leather up and over his smooth ass. Phil murmured a thank you before stealing a kiss from Steve’s lips. He turned around to face him, letting his pliable-back rest easily against the bricks. They were still warm and inviting. He smiled and looked down at Steve who worked on re-lacing his leathers. Running both his hands over Steve’s hair, he brought them down over his cheecks and under his chin. With gentle pressure from his fingertips, he brought Steve up to eye level with him.

“You never seem to disappoint me, love.” Phil kissed Steve again, letting the drummer take his mouth. Feeling the same ferocious hunger from the drummer, even post-orgasm made him smile into the kiss and moan appreciatively. After several minutes they parted with a pop. “And you are the only person I’ve had who can carry the rhythm all by himself.”

Without warning, Steve kissed him again. Phil still looked just as tempting and wanton even in his debauched state. Phil laced his arms around Steve’s neck, enjoying the closeness of their bodies. Steve took a step forward and slid a leg between Phil’s thighs. He sucked Phil’s tongue, earning him more purrs and approving noises from the other man.

“Phil. Phil! Where the hell are you?” Came a voice from the mouth of the alley.

Phil gave a disapproving noise and tried to break away from Steve. The gentle embrace tightened and he was tugged harder into the drummer’s chest. He giggled softly, but continued to squirm.

“Love,” Phil murmured between kisses. “I have to go.” He finally succeeded in pushing Steve back and holding him at bay with a strong hand on the other’s chest. “I have to sing. My band’s already pissed at me for earlier. I don’t want to piss them off more.”

“When are you going to sing for my band?”

“Doesn’t Lawless sing for you?” Phil asked, but his tone was the same, teasing and encouraging. He stroked a finger over Steve’s cheek.

“That’s not what I mean,” Steve protested with a shake of his head. “We can make our own band.”

“Love, no. I like you. I like you a lot. I love when you fuck me and how you make my body feel the way you do, but I have a rule.” Phil toyed with Steve’s bandana, trying to soothe the other’s lewd agitation and lust. “I don’t sleep with any one in my own band. Bad juju.”

“What if we don’t make it just a relationship? What if it’s just sex?” Steve protested.

“Only sex with each other?” Phil asked teasingly. Then added a slightly amused, oh, as he looked down at t their intertwined fingers. He lifted their joined hands, turning them this way and that as if analyzing the connection in the streetlight. “That isn’t what you want with me. Is it, love?”

“It’s still a shit rule,” Steve grumbled, cupping the back of Phil’s neck. When he tried to pull him in for a kiss, Phil resisted with a slight jerk.

“Think about it, love. If we were in the same band and had a fight, it would mess up the rest of the guys. They’d have to choose sides. Even if we were happy and openly fucked in front of them they’d be jealous, because we’d have a steady bed mate. No, love. I want you and I want to keep you…”

“Phil! Get your goddamn ass in this joint and get on stage!” An irate guitarist charged down the alleyway toward them. “I’ve had up to here with…”

“I’m coming, Gerry!” Phil yelled in return. He turned back to Steve, cupping his face in his hands, he pulled him close to whisper, “Watch me from stage left, all right, love?” And with a kiss, Phil faded effortlessly from Steve’s arms.

Steve watched him strut down the alley. Even in the grime and murk of this dive’s shadowy cavern, Phil still looked like a glam rock god. Deceptively feminine, yet raw sexual heat radiated off the vocalist as he slipped a glittery tank top over his head without breaking stride. Steve hoped he would change into that leopard print jumpsuit. It made him hard just thinking of Phil’s tight delectable body encased in that low cut spandex. It fit him like a second skin making Steve wonder if Phil was leopard in a past life from the way he moved.

Sporting a half hard erection, he slipped into the bar right under the nose of security to watch the show. He found a spot on stage left, but hid in the back. He wanted to test if Phil would really look for him a in this medium-sized ground of gorgeous women already screaming and cheering for the band, mainly Phil. Oddly enough, the way the women threw themselves at Phil’s feet didn’t bother Steve too much. The drummer wasn’t sure if he was that confident Phil was his or it was the thought of watching Phil with a woman that made him feel at ease. Maybe it was just that Steve had a cock and Phil seemed to enjoy it.

Either way, Phil was now prancing around stage like the good little sex kitten he was. He was in the same outfit he had on when Steve fucked him, but that only turned Steve on even more. He swore he could smell his sex radiating off the vocalist. Phil teased the audience with deceptively bashful turns of his head and coy shrugs of his shoulders. His eyes fell and rose to lock onto an unsuspecting audience member. He was such a timid tease whenever he sang _My Number._ Steve felt tightness in his chest whenever Phil made a girl scream. It pissed him off and he shuffled forward. He wanted a harder song. He wanted those pouty lips to scream a harder song and really make Steve feel it. Steve wanted it dirtier, grittier, and hard now.

Then their eyes met and Phil pursed his sexy mouth into the pout he always seemed to show Phil. The girl’s screamed at the sight as he demurely lowered his eyelashes. He found Steve when he opened his eyes again and launched into _Hollywood Tease,_ moving his body more and running around the stage gracefully only to pivot and pose provocatively.

 _Fuck, yes, you are a tease, you little bitch_ , Steve thought as his fists tightened. He wanted to jack off right on the spot but didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Instead, he smiled at Phil; watching and studying him as he thought of all the depraved things he would do to him after the show. _The little tease better not think he’s going to an afterparty after this_ , Steve thought as he licked his lips. Phil had just arched his back while holding the microphone. Steve could wait until the end of the song, but no more than that. Phil was the perfect tease and Steve had the cure for that precious living, breathing, walking centerfold.

…

Tracii rolled to his stomach and watched the two musicians collaborate. They were honest and open with each other on what they thought but were never mean. Tracii liked that. He liked seeing a community of musicians who loved music form. He loved that L.A. seemed to be fostering this development. His eyes were only half open, slipping in and out of the dreamy memories of his and Izzy’s date. It had been perfect.

Izzy pedaled them to the boardwalk most of the way, but Tracii insisted on hopping off at one point and skateboarding along with him. Then Izzy found a rope and tied one end to his bike and gave the other to Tracii. Izzy took off pedaling and Tracii whooped as he was pulled along. Izzy laughed and made sharp turns in playful attempts to dislodge Tracii. Really, that was the least of his desires.

Once at the boardwalk they went to the open skate pit. Izzy took a seat at the edge of the bowl, realizing that he was more tired than he realized. He lit up a joint and watched his boyfriend skate. Every so often, Tracii would skate by and steal a drag off Izzy’s cig. Izzy practiced a couple tricks on his bike, but Tracii could tell he was still dragging from the long bike ride, so he pulled him to the ocean.

They ran down the beach, Izzy tossing away his shirt while Tracii stripped to his birthday suit. Both dove into the surf and lulled in the rush of the waves as they crashed into the beach. Izzy laughed when he realized Tracii was buck-naked and dunked him. When the next wave came in, Tracii jumped with it and right into Izzy, taking him down under water in retaliation. Izzy surfaced, spitting the water out and grinned at the younger. He lunged for Tracii who jumped beneath the surf and tried to swim away. The two chased each other and played in the water going deeper and deeper until the water got cold and their feet couldn’t touch.

Eventually both lovesick musicians were tired and let the sea wash them back to land. They held hands as the waves lifted them up and moved them closer to shore. Once they reached the shallows, they sat on the sandy bottom, just sat drifting in the white foam capped surf. They held hands or embraced as the water lapped at their bodies. At times Izzy would draw Tracii into his lap, so they could drift as one. Or they’d hold try to swim in circles around each other.

“Hey, Trace, come here.”

“I’m here,” Tracii replied without moving.

“No you’re not. Come here.” Izzy gave a quick tug on his arm and dragged Tracii into his lap. The younger squirmed as his ass was pushed into the air above the lapping water.

“What are you doing?” He asked, trying to wiggle around to see.

“Checking to see if the water has cooled off your hot ass,” Izzy replied simply. He let his fingers skim over it. Tracii subconsciously twitched. “Hmm, nope. Still hot.” He gave it a playful slap, causing a surprised noise and laugh from the younger guitarist. As the next wave came in Tracii used it to roll off his lap.

“Why didn’t you get naked?” Tracii asked, as he drifted into Izzy’s bent knees. With the help of an incoming wave, Tracii pulled himself up into Izzy’s lap. “Don’t you know how gorgeous your naked body is?”

Izzy leaned forward and kissed him, licking away the salty water to fully taste Tracii. “I don’t want to be competition for you. I like you being the sexy one everyone stares at it.”

Tracii hummed and continued the kiss for a few more seconds. Pulling back, he teasingly pushed the hair back from Izzy’s face. “Makes you feel good to know my sexy ass goes home with you every night, huh?”

Izzy leaned forward and scooped him up into his arms. His hands folded around his ass. “Makes me feel loved that _all_ of you comes home with me.” They kissed again, holding each other in the gentle surf.

“Mph, shit… Izzy! Cops!” Tracii mumbled.

“Fuckin’ shit,” Izzy grumbled. They hadn’t been spotted yet, but needed to get away from each other. “Swim out to sea and I’ll get you your shorts.”

Tracii nodded and submerged himself under the waves, letting the water take him out to sea. As discreetly as he could, Izzy grabbed Tracii’s disregarded shorts and left them floating in the shallow end. He made a sign of where he could be found and not to directly follow him. As he walked up the boardwalk, he overheard a woman and a patrolman talking.

“They were shamelessly groping each other. Both buck-ass-naked and fondling each other like they were in some sexy movie. It was disgusting.”

“Can I get a description, ma’am?” The patrolman asked patiently.

“Long hair, skinny, tattoos. You know, the typical L.A. kid type.”

He bit back a smile at the thought of being a “typical L.A. kid”. Tracii was, but Izzy wasn’t. Effortlessly, Izzy used his super power of becoming invisible and snuck by the two. He vaguely remembered seeing the horrified woman staring at them and knew she could easily point him or Tracii out in a line up. It made him only slightly nervous because he reasoned they could out run the man. Still officials bothered Izzy. Always had. Probably always will.

“Gotcha! Stick ‘em up!” Tracii yelled and jumped onto Izzy.

Izzy yelped in surprise and pushed Tracii off of him. He stumbled to the ground and Izzy’s heart didn’t stop beating from fright. “Don’t fucking do that! Those assholes are right around the corner! They could have heard you!”

“Yes, officer. That’s them!” The woman said and pointed to the pair.

“Hey, you kids, get back here!”

“Shit, move!” Izzy said, hauling Tracii to his feet. They took off at a full on run, dodging people and weaving in and out of the crowd hoping to lose the patrolman and keep track of each other. They were losing him, but he was shouting loudly. Izzy saw another officer emerge but quickly double backed his steps and gave him the slip. He could see Tracii pull ahead of another cop who had taken up the chase. They were in the clear, they could just hide out in...

With a hard thud, Izzy fell to the boardwalk. He saw stars and the world looked darker for a minute when he could feel something clutching his ankle, crawling higher up his leg to get a better hold on him. A bear of a man had him pinned to the ground. He squirmed and tried to dislodge himself, but the patrolman wasn’t having it. The patrolman screamed at him to stop squirming, but Izzy continued to thrash.

“Duck!” Screamed a voice. Instinctively, Izzy did just in time to see Tracii’s foot soar above his head and right into the patrolman’s face. The man let out a scream and covered his face with his hands.

“Let’s go!” Tracii shouted. Yanking Izzy to his feet, he pushed him out in front of him and together they sprinted on. The other patrolmen were farther behind, so they could easily find a good hiding spot.

They opted for a tree in a nearby park. It was closed, but they had hoped the fence and were safe inside. No one came by except for the occasional bird or squirrel. They all kept the musician’s whereabouts a secret. Up in the tree, Izzy never let go of Tracii’s waist. Tracii didn’t talk much, just stroked Izzy’s head, murmuring encouraging and soothing words from time to time. He could feel warm tears rolling down his sides but didn’t comment on them.

When Izzy finally sat up and rubbed his eyes, he mumbled, “thank you.”

“For what?” Tracii asked completely baffled.

“For coming back for me.”

Tracii continued to look at him like he was crazy, but offered a warm smile. “Of course, darling. I wasn’t going to let those big hairy assholes have their way with you. You’re mine.” He slung an arm around Izzy’s waist and nuzzled his neck. “I’m just sorry I got us in trouble with my big mouth.”

Izzy gave him a gentle squeeze and said, “But I like your mouth.”

Tracii flashed him a teasing smirk. “Is that your way of saying I owe you a blow job?” His hands slid up Izzy’s thighs as he lowered his head.

“Not right this minute,” Izzy said quickly. He took Tracii’s hand and lifted it to his face. “But I’ll always take a blow job from you. Let’s call Chris and get a ride to his place before you suck me or I lick you all over for my personal thank you to you.”

“Mm, shit,” Tracii purred and lay against Izzy. The thought of the guitarist licking him all over always made him horny.

“Not now,” Izzy reprimanded and slid down the tree.

Tracii followed. As they pulled up to Chris’s house, Tracii thanked him profusely for letting him blow Izzy in the back seat. Chris had replied by turning the music up and ignoring both the thank you blowjob as well as the thank yous. He didn’t care that they were going at it in the back seat. He just didn’t want to hear each and every noise Izzy made as he came.

Tracii thought over the events as he watched Izzy play his guitar. The anxiety of the day was etched into his face by the small line running down his forehead, but he was much more relaxed than he was earlier. That episode with the patrolman really shook him up. Tracii was glad he could be there for him. He vowed to always be there to save Izzy. His own body still felt like vibrating jelly as he thought about Izzy making good on his promise to lick him. Every one of his nerves was on fire and would spasm from the memory of Izzy’s tongue making intricate swipes over his salty skin. Despite the cop chase, or maybe including it, the date was wonderful in Tracii’s mind. He couldn’t wait for the next time. Now he needed to raid Chris’s fridge for provisions for not just him, but all three of the hungry musicians.

…

“It’s still too main stream,” Izzy commented as he studied the guitar in his lap. “It’s not right.”

“Agreed,” Chris said as he crumpled up a bag of Cheetos. He didn’t seem concerned about the pile of junk food wrappers in the middle of the living room, but the naked sleeping form curled up next to Izzy caused his eyebrows to rise slightly. “He doesn’t look all that comfortable.”

Izzy glanced up at Chris with a small and annoyed frown on his face. He didn’t like being drawn out of his musical trance mission to find the right sound of his band. Following Chris’s finger, he found a naked Tracii curled in an odd position at his thigh. The kid had brought them food without being asked. He’d jammed with them a bit, ate, and apparently had fallen asleep. Sometimes food made Izzy’s lover sleepy. Izzy’s face softened and he threaded a hand through Tracii’s messy hair. The younger boy continued to sleep, barely reacting to the intimate touch.

“Do you care what bed I put him in?”

With a conspiratorial smile, he said, “Why not yours?” Chris lit a joint. “Maybe fucking him will give you some inspiration.”

Izzy snorted at the wink Chris threw his way. Setting aside his guitar, he scooped Tracii up like a bride. He made sure the young guitarist was lying against his chest before standing. Repositioning Tracii in his arms, he walked upstairs to the room Chris had loaned him to crash. By no means was it tidy, but Izzy didn’t trash the room out of respective for Chris’s parents.

Tracii whined slightly as he was set down on the cool sheets. Izzy moved his legs to get the entire blanket out from under him so he could wrap Tracii up and not be cold. He paused before he did this. His gaze lingered over the soft angular body. Tracii had a long supple spine that ended with a nice slightly rounded ass. Izzy could feel himself drooling at the sight. He thought about making good on his promise to lick Tracii’s body. He loved exploring him with his tongue and he wanted to do it again.

Letting the blankets bunch up around Tracii’s thighs, Izzy sat down on the bed. He planted both hands on either side of his hips and just marveled at the sight of soft untouched skin. Tracii had been talking about getting tattoos, which Izzy found to be extremely hot. With a single finger, he traced imaginary patterns over Tracii’s lower back, sweeping up his ribs and curving around his back. Tracii barely stirred. Izzy wondered what prompted him to sleep so deeply.

“Hey, Izz?”

Izzy jumped slightly as his head spun around to face the owner of the soft voice.

“There’s someone at the door who says he knows you from Indiana,” Chris said. He waited for Izzy to respond, but the look in Izzy’s eyes filled him with concern. “I can tell him to get lost…”

“No!” Izzy yelled as he leaped to his feet. Chris took a step back in surprise. They both glanced at Tracii, but the guitarist remained dead to the world. “I mean. Thanks, man. I’ll go talk to him.”

Izzy walked by Chris quickly, but slowed as he maneuvered down the hall toward the stairs. Fear was starting to take a hold of him. It felt like arms were holding him back, that he could faint at a moment’s notice. A hand was gripping his throat, squeezing the voice right out of him. His body felt numb and his head drifted into wordless anxiety. Yet somehow his legs propelled him forward into his guest’s sight. Still, he paused mid way down the steps. Looking down he found a small boy, wrapped in light faded denim and a black band shirt. There were knee holes in his jeans and his hair glowed more orange than Izzy remembered it when they met at UCLA. _He must be picking up some of the Strip with him,_ Izzy thought, apprehension swirling in the pit of his stomach as he thought about his Bill wandering the acidic streets of Sunset.

“Good to see you, man,” said Axl with a soft smile. Izzy didn’t reply, but jumped over the railing and threw his arms around Axl’s shoulders. The redhead moved in to complete the hug and add his own squeeze to Izzy’s waist.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Izzy said softly as he languished in the embrace.

“Well, that’s because you’re a brat,” Axl teased.

“And you’re a little bitch,” Izzy retorted. He pushed against Axl’s shoulders when he felt the pressure of the hug tighten to almost too much. When they parted, Izzy could only find the same soft smile on Axl’s lips. _All in jest_ , he thought.

“You gave me your address,” Axl said and gaze around the foyer. “You’ve done pretty well for yourself.” He nodded at the chandelier above their heads. “Who did you have to let fuck you for this place? Is she hot? Does she have a twin sister?”

“I didn’t let anyone fuck me for this place. It belongs to a friend of mine.”

“The blonde guy? He’s not your butler?”

“No, but I can get you a soda or some food, if you’re hungry,” Chris said as he came down the stairs.

“Axl, this is Chris. Chris. Axl.” Izzy lazily pointed at each. “Axl and I grew up in Indiana together.”

“How’s it going, man?” Axl asked nicely and Chris returned the pleasantries for a while. Despite hating small talk, the more Axl and Chris talked about nonsense the more at ease Izzy became. He wasn’t sure why the thought of Axl meeting his friends should be so nerve raking, but it was. Thankfully, all of his worry had become moot and he could enjoy listening to his friends talk.

At some point he found himself in the kitchen with them. Axl was picking at a bag of chips. Izzy perched on a kitchen stool with his guitar in his lap. His gaze flickered about the room, not really listening to Axl and Chris’s conversation. He was slowly entering his trance again; trying to find that sound he knew was out there.

“Why the fuck are you playing that shit again?” Axl asked abruptly.

“What?” Izzy looked at him.

“It’s that same knock off shit you play when you think you’re actually innovating when all you’re doing is playing a stripped down version of Led Zeppelin.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? You’re out of your mind. This is entirely different.”

“Bullshit!” Axl threw back. Both their voices grew quiet when they heard Chris starting to leave the room. Axl held up an apologetic hand. “Sorry, man. We’ll knock it off.”

“Hey, it’s cool. We’ve been trying to find a sound for our band anyway.”

“You should sing for us, Ax. Help get our creative juices flowing,” Izzy said.

Axl stared at him. Neither Chris nor Izzy could read his expression. Chris thought he looked agitated and ready while Izzy didn’t even bother to try to anticipate his mood or reaction. He just waited for it to happen since it was usually a crap shoot with Axl.

The red head remained stoic, analyzing the situation. He bumped into the wall as he shifted his weight. Frowning when he realized he had been edging towards the wall. He glanced at Izzy challenging him to make a comment. Izzy remained impassive. It both ticked Axl off as well as calmed him down when Izzy remained cool and collect in the face of most any event in life.

Finally Axl announced, “I could use a shower.”

“Sure thing, man, third room on the second floor. Use any towel you want,” Chris replied hospitably.

“Thanks. Appreciate it, man,” Axl said as he headed in that direction.

The second Izzy heard the bathroom door shut he turned to Chris. “So let’s find that sound.”

Chris followed him into the room, but wondered why the anxious guitarist was now calm and collect. _Does he lose it only when Axl’s around? Did he and Axl used to date?_

The musicians continued to talk and strum their guitars. Trying to weave their hero’s sounds, the stuff that electrified their souls into their sound, but make it their own. It was harder than they realized.

“What if you made it faster?” Chris asked.

Izzy sped up his playing. “I’m losing the soul.”

“Maybe we need to find a bass player, before we get a sound.”

“Give me a bass. I can play it,” Izzy replied.

“That’s true. A lot of it is having a tight rhythm section. If you have a shit drummer or a dick that can’t keep a steady beat the abnd is shit. I don’t care how fucking good the guitarist is or if the singer is fucking operatic.”

“Fucking right,” Izzy agreed with a slight sneer. Just before he was going to try a different note he heard a familiar sound.

“ _Dream on… Dream on…”_

Izzy stopped playing when he heard that beautiful sound drifting above the soft rush of pelting water. It broke through his hardened cold heart.

“ _You can never see, what you’re doing to me. So, dream on…_ ”

“That’s our sound,” Chris whispered.

“ _You can laugh at me because because I’m crying…”_

“Yeah,” Izzy said, flicking a cigarette to life.

“ _But you’ll never know how much I needed you! Dream on!_ ”

Izzy dropped the lighter. The ember skimmed over his skin causing a welt to form across the top of his wrist. _Fuck you in the fucking ass._

“… _Dream on…_ ”

“If he sticks around, I’ll get him to join.” Izzy put his guitar in it’s case and walked out of the room.

Chris’s eyes widened and he sat in shock at that event. He’d never seen Izzy do that since he moved in with him. Izzy had always kept his guitar out so he could play it at a moment’s notice. It was such a weird and abrupt reaction to Axl singing. Chris wondered if he should or how he could broach this subject with Izzy or if he should just let it go.

…

“You can tell your friends how much I begged you to stay. _You can live your fantasy without me…”_

Tracii smiled in his sleep, but didn’t wake.

…

Tracii slowly stirred from his deep slumber as he felt a soft tickling on his hips. His eyes shot open when he felt the wet pressure of a tongue skimming over the small of his back. He tried to rise but found himself pinned to the bed. He whimpered softly not yet fully understanding what was happening.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Izzy’s voice made him pause. Throwing his hair over his shoulders Tracii tried to crane his neck to look behind him. His uneven bangs fell back into his eyes. The bed dipped beneath him and soon Izzy’s face was mirroring his. Their eyes connected. The intensity of that gaze held Tracii prisoner more than the hands that encircled his hips. Tracii didn’t realize Izzy was touching him until he he felt fingertips skim over the shell of his ear. Izzy tucked the strands of hair behind his ear to see his eyes clearly.

Izzy smiled a little, but the crimson fire never left his eyes. “I’ll stop if you say so.”

“What are you… What were you going to do?”

“Making you feel good of course.” Izzy’s smile broadened. “Want me to demonstrate?”

“Y-yeah,” Tracii said. Internally, he cursed Izzy for always being able to render him speechless. Not even his own mom could do that.

Izzy crawled down the bed. Taking Tracii’s hips in his hands, he lifted them up and let his tongue slide over the angled curves of his lower body. Tracii gasped and squirmed beneath him. Pushing his ass up, he tried to guide Izzy’s tongue to where he wanted to be explored. He wanted him to go lower and deeper, but Izzy wouldn’t be deterred. He continued to tease, and licked up the full expanse of his spine causing Tracii to purr and stretch like a cat being stroked. Izzy sneaked a hand around his chest and stroked down the center to down to his navel. Now Tracii was undulating beneath him, trapped in this teasing dance of teasing play, not sure whether to search out his tongue or his magic hands.

“That’s what I was going to do to you,” Izzy said simply, letting Tracii go. The guitarist swiveled around and grabbed a hold of him.

“Don’t stop!” He cried out.

Izzy bit back a laugh. He stroked his palm up Tracii’s exposed torso as he purred, “Then get on your belly and give me that ass.”

In seconds, the younger flipped over and offered himself to his lover. Izzy didn’t waste time. He lowered his head and started to suck on the gentle curve of Tracii’s small ass. His tongue occasionally would flick out to provide a soothing tickle. Tracii was writhing in desire under him as he was explored and delicately probed. He moaned Izzy’s name as the guitarist continued to lavish attention on his body.

Izzy slipped his hand around Tracii’s hips. Dipping between his trembling legs to add the final touch to the pleasure he wanted to give his lover. It turned him on to watch Tracii beg and shake beneath his touch. He looked gorgeous as he hissed and panted. His name was always on the tip of his lips. Izzy knew he was waiting for Izzy to make him cum. Then he would be screaming his name, but Izzy had one last trick up his sleeve.

Right before he went all the way, he said in a clear sex-hazed voice, “I love you, Tracii.”

Tracii’s head jerked back as he felt the hot flutter inside him and the hand tighten around his cock. He cried out, “Izzy!” The name became a hard chant as he gasped and moaned with pleasure. Rocking back and forth on his shaking limbs, he leaned into Izzy’s touch, seeking balance as well as all of the pleasure he could give. He was cumming without realizing it. Izzy continued to find ways to draw out each wave of electricity that made Tracii curled his toes and fist the sheets.

With a final strangled scream, he crashed limply in Izzy’s arms. Izzy slid a hand up to Tracii’s chest, catching him before he could hit his head. Tracii could barely whimper a “thanks” as he dangled above his bed. Beads of sweat dripped freely from his body.

Izzy pulled his legs beneath him and tucked the spent guitarist into his lap. He smiled as he pushed the sodden strands of black hair from his eyes. Tracii beamed up at him sleepily and snuggled deeper into Izzy’s naked body. He wondered briefly when he’d gotten naked. He was clothed the last time Tracii saw him.

“How’s about a bath to wash this sweat off of you?” Izzy asked, still stroking a thumb over his forehead.

“I like this sweat. It smells like you,” Tracii protested.

“C’mon. We wrecked Chris’s sheets.”

“He’ll forgive us. I’ve put him through worst.”

“So do you just want to sleep?”

“Mhmm,” Tracii hummed as he buried his face into Izzy’s inner hip.

“Dirty fingers do make for better guitar players,” Izzy said as he snuggled down with Tracii still cuddled around him. He pulled the soiled blankets around them and soon found himself nodding off. He didn’t even hear Chris close the door, ensuring his parents wouldn’t see when they got home.


	7. (There's Your) Rocket Queen Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes! Oh my god, yes! Fuck me, Slash!” The blonde flung himself onto the bed....

Axl stood soaking wet, staring into a bedroom. His heart and brain were locked in an internal struggle with each other. It was similar to his emotions from earlier that evening, but far worse. His heart was crumbling, but his mind wouldn’t yield to its demands and instead took out its anger on him and his body. Unease was building in his stomach and his limbs were starting to shake. The dark silence that had followed him since youth was now rising again to take over and render him motionless. He could feel the bile crawling up his throat to silence his mouth. Yet the more he continued to stare into the room, the more the darkness was fading to a lighter share of dark grey. His mind was repulsed by this notion, but his heart called out from the confines of the man-made prison.

“Bill?” Izzy asked and then corrected, “Er, Axl?”

The red head barely heard his childhood friend and didn’t turn. Izzy cautiously approached him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he gave it a light squeeze. Still nothing from the red head, who on closer inspection looked far away as he stood completely motionless. Izzy squeezed his shoulder, calling both of his names.

Without taking his eyes off the bedroom, Axl said softly, “Beautiful.”

Izzy frowned and looked into the room. He found a naked Tracii fast asleep on his stomach. He’d wondered where the guitarist had run off too. Tracii was never one to be quiet or sit still. Yet there he was curled ip on the mattress with the bed sheets entangled around his lower body. Tracii was beautiful, Izzy never disagreed on that point, but he searched the room for what Axl was talking about. He couldn’t believe it was Tracii.

“What are you looking at?” Izzy asked.

“You’re very lucky,” Axl said in an oddly monotone voice.

Izzy removed his hand and took a step back, but still Axl continued to stare not saying a word. For the first time in his life, Izzy was anxious about Axl’s behavior. He shifted his weight and scratched at his arm. Axl’s eyes remained fixated on the room and as Izzy believed to be on Tracii. Then a dark thought crossed his mind. _Is Axl angry at Tracii?_ He wondered.

Without warning Axl turned. His eyes were large and puffy, brimming with tears. Izzy’s eyes flew wide when he saw the water collected in those green gems. Before he could say a word Axl mumbled sorry and ran past Izzy. The guitarist felt paralyzed and didn’t move to grab his friend. His only release was when he heard Axl collapse on the floor.

Without a single thought, he sprinted down the hall to find the red head curled at the top of the staircase curled around the railing. Izzy dropped to his knees and enveloped him in a bone curshing embrace. Holding him, he waited for the fight but was only met with gentle protests of resistance. Eventually Axl turned and buried himself into Izzy’s chest. Izzy felt wet heat seep into his shirt. It broke his heart to know that it wasn’t just the water from Axl’s shower. He wanted to know why Axl was crying. He hadn’t cried, or at least hadn’t told Izzy that he had cried, for a very long time. Izzy wanted to know what made Axl upset, but part of their relationship was built on not asking the orther for the details every time they broke. Determined to honor that, he continued to hold Axl close and make sure he knew he was there with him.

…

Bam. Axl awoke as the bus hit a hard bump in the road. His back hit the side of the seat that was nowhere near as comfortable as the other guy’s hands. He still wondered about him. He thought about the guy again. T. That was the one letter he could make out on his shoulder tattoo. He wondered what his name was. He should have asked Izzy, but he couldn’t handle the intensity of the situation and bolted.

There was no denying Izzy was gay and liked fucking guys, but he and Axl had never talked about it. Axl had quickly figured out that when Izzy was extra vague about where he’d been on some night it was because he was fucking some guy he found. Even when Izzy was off at the next town getting it on, he always left his window open so Axl could climb in and hide from his house. For that reason, Axl didn’t always pry into Izzy’s nightlife.

Now it was different. Now Axl had experienced what he felt was a small token of what Izzy probably got every day from this guy. Axl knew this _T_ guy was Izzy’s lover. It was purely instinctual, but he knew. Axl had always resented and despised anyone that took Izzy away from him. Even though Izzy never had a permanent guy or even brought anyone he was fucking around. Axl quickly grew to hate all guys who he thought might be looking at Izzy in that way.

He saw this guy in a different light though. He knew T was Izzy’s first real boyfriend and they looked to be living together in that giant house. Yet this guy was so nice and caring towards Axl. He never ridiculed Axl or touched him inappropriately when he was in the bathroom. He wondered if Izzy made him be nice to him. But _why would he? How would Izzy know I’d come over?_ Axl thought over this for most of the morning, but another scarier question was coming to the surface of Axl’s tortured brain. He didn’t know if he wanted or could face this one.

His feet were no longer touching the sticky floor of the bus as he pulled his legs tighter into his chest. He bit his lips and the inside of his cheeks, finding the sores he’d created from gnawing on the inside of his mouth the other night. His body still ached with the debilitating heaviness that seemed to pull him down from the core of his being into the depths of his own despondent mind. Running his tongue over the sores did little to help ease the uncomfortable pain or cause enough pain to block out the events that had transpired earlier. The unease and pain in his joints would never leave him only fade into a dull sting. Pain shot through his jaw as he gnashed his teeth against each other. Placing a hand over his jaw, he tried to squelch it, but the pain would not forgive him.

The bus rocked and swayed with the harsh winds that gusted against the front of the bus. The driver ignored the winds and pressed down harder on the gas. Axl tried to rock with the bus’s motion, ignore his self-inflicted pain, and lull him to sleep. It had been eluding him since he boarded the bus back in California. His mind kept drifting to the one question that still plagued him. The one question he didn’t want any sort of answer to whether yes or no. He wanted to not even be thinking about such things and yet here he was. The floodgates had been opened and he fought desperately to close them as the wind fought desperately to push him back to California for the answer. Axl swallowed his heart and forced his mind to think of everything good he experienced with him and yet what led him to running to the bus station in the first place.

…

 

Axl’s body lurched forward as he vomited into the toilet. His hands slipped off the porcelain bowl, causing him to hit his head. He didn’t have time to groan as he was throwing up again. His hair caught part of the spray and instantly thinned and plastered to his neck. Not all of the vomit got in the toilet and some was beginning to run down his shirt. Hands lifted his hair from his neck. Before he could turn to see who was holding his hair, he threw up again. He heard the softest soothing whispers over his dry heaves. His body was shaking and yet he didn’t feel any threat from who ever was behind him. He thought it might be Izzy and that soothed him more.

Once there was no more to throw up, he coughed over the toilet bowl on shaky arms. One of the hands that held his hair back was now placed lightly his stomach, holding him securely. Axl reached down to touch the hand, enjoying how warm the top of the palm was. As the heaves and tension in Axl’s body faded, he was coaxed back into a soft chest. He knew it was a masculine chest, but he was too weak to care and he didn’t feel any sense of danger in the embrace. He let himself relax into the body and be moved into a comfortable position in the bathtub. The gentle spray of water warmed his skin and he felt the same soft hands working shampoo into his stained locks. Axl felt good. After a short time, his hair was towel dried and he was laid to rest against a waded up bunch of towels.

“Just relax,” came a soft voice.

Internally something snapped in Axl when he realized it wasn’t Izzy. Yet, his fear and anger quickly subsided. This guy was too gentle to be any threat to Axl like previous men had been. He managed a weak smile as he tried to open his eyes. He saw a blurry outline of the dark haired man now moving away from him. Reaching out, Axl grabbed the man’s hand and pulled him close. He could barely make out the letters of the tattoo on his arm. With a sighed ‘thank you’ Axl fell asleep.

…

Kelly strutted lazily down The Strip, hands in his pocket, and an easy smile on his lips. In the streets, motorcycle engines revved and sped off into the night. He paused to look longingly at the machines thundering away from him. It made him miss his hog. If he ever found the dick that stole it, he’d personally murder him. He tried to look at the bright side that he’d ground his second love of music and it came with some hot chicks who were eager to get it on with him. He still rode, but hadn’t been practicing any stunts or motocross like when he was younger. He was a hot rod back then, but now his bass was taking up most of his life. Some days his bass and band mates felt like a small consolation prize for him. Most days he enjoyed being worshiped and fucked by both guitar players in his band. Made him feel wanted and sort of special.

Brent and Greg was an odd pair. They didn’t get along very much, but they didn’t hate each other or feel any strong malice to the other. Mark, Faster’s drummer, told Kelly that before he joined, Brent was always vying for Taime’s attention and would get pissed whenever Taime spent more time with Greg than him. Greg and Taime had potentially been an item back in the day. They never officially broke up, but they weren’t as close since starting Faster. Currently, they were an on-again off-again thing, but that made Brent jealous.

The band thought Brent was jealous because he wanted Taime and Taime wasn’t interested in him. Then one night Greg turned his attention to Brent. After that night, the pair formed an aggressive sexual one-way relationship. Neither would clarify if they loved each other or were just fucking to have a steady fuck.

“I highly doubt those two aren’t in some sort of love. Those two could get as much pussy as they want, but they still chose each other on many nights,” Mark said.

The more aggressive fights eased when Kelly joined. Mark said the pair became easier to work and reason with with Kelly in the band. Mark was relieved, because the fights were starting to get to him. His arms told that story, but he always wore sleeves to hide it. Kelly never pried into that side of Mark. It wasn’t for him to judge or ask questions of Mark’s habits. Taime went back to his own entourage without much worry. He would seek out Greg for some nighttime fun on occassion, but didn’t bother much with Brent. In turn, Brent was all right with this because he could sneak into Kelly’s bed at night.

Kelly thought about that one night when he had Brent on top of him, pinning him down, ready to fuck his brains out when Greg stumbled into the room. Greg looked disheveled as if they had caught him mid-fuck. His pants were falling off his sculpted torso and his hair was mussed as if from being rustled against a pillow. He didn’t say anything, but charged Brent, grabbed him by his face and promptly smashed their lips together. Brent moaned and let Greg push him to his back beside Kelly. He watched the pair tongue fuck each other. Then as if they were one entity, they turned their attention to him as if for the first time they realized he was there. Their hands and mouths migrated to Kelly’s body. The rest of the memory is replaced with one of the hottest orgasms Kelly had experienced in his life.

Kelly loved sex and loved being worshiped, but he sometimes wondered how he had gotten into this orgy of a band. He wasn’t in love with Brent and Greg. He definitely lusted after them, but the pair never gave him enough time to properly miss them because they always fucked him before he could feel any separation anxiety. It was kind of nice having his needs and desires taken care of before he experienced them. Lost in his thoughts and the sights of the motorcycles, he didn’t even realize someone was standing right next to him.

“Kelly! Hey! Hi!”

Kelly snapped out of his thoughts and turned his head. Then he looked down. A short kid with a pimply face was waving at him. A large smile was plastered on his face.

“Hey, Tracii,” Kelly said with a smile. He liked this kid. Good energy, a dirty mouth, and usually pretty good weed. Not to mention he was a wicked awesome guitarist.

“How’ve you been, man?”

“Good. Good.”

“Dude! When did you start wearing hats?” Tracii asked, reaching up to grab at Kelly’s bright red hat.

“Uh,” Kelly stammered, touching his hat. “I don’t know, man. I mean, I have a head, and you know.”

“Yeah. You know, Jimmy Page wore a hat one time and he had these killer boots to match. He didn’t stay with that look, but he wore it with his double neck guitar. I’ve got a hat…”

Kelly could barely follow Tracii as he rambled through the many outfits of Jimmy Page. At some point Kelly thought he got off on Jimmy’s music, but he wasn’t sure. Most times he tuned Tracii out. He liked the kid a lot but sometimes he was a little too much for him. This was why he liked Greg and Brent as much as he did. They were a much more subdued pair. Maybe they only appeared subdued because both of their mouths were kept busy when Kelly was around.

Somehow Tracii’s fanboy obsession with Jimmy Page turned into his admiration of John Paul Jone’s bass playing prowess. He mentioned Kelly’s name in his monologue. Not that he was comparing them, but mentioning things that Jones did that Kelly could try. Once again, Kelly fazed out and started to take in Tracii’s appearance. He had to bite his lip to hold back a smile when he realized that Tracii was dressed exactly like the latest photo of Jimmy from a rock magazine. He had everything down to the polka dot scarf. The bassist was brought out of his induced state of oblivion at the sound of his own name being said.

“Hey, Mick! Have you met Kelly?”

“Heard of him Never met him,” Mick said as he slyly checked out Kelly’s body. “Hi. Mick Cripps.”

“Cript? That’s like you’re straight out of a horror movie.”

“Yeah. By day I work as an undertaker at the cemetery down the street. I find your tone rather offensive. Do you have a problem with my profession? Someone needs to do it,” Mick replied dryly. He chuckled when Kelly backed up a step. “I’m kidding. Don’t take me seriously. It’s _Cripps,_ no T.”

“Oh, gotcha.”

“You know, Mick,” Tracii spoke up. “Kelly plays bass. We should get him to join our band!”

“But he’s in a band already, Tracii.”

Tracii turned to face Kelly. His face had grown serious, but his voice had never slowed. “Well, are you really happy in your band, Kelly? Because my group is going to fucking rock hard! And we won’t make you put out to get the spot. We’re not sick like that. You fuck only if you want and we get plenty of girls so we don’t get lonely.”

Kelly laughed as he tried to find words, but nothing came. He shuffled on his feet.

“I think the doors are opening.” Mick pointed to the bar’s doors and the small stream of people moving toward.

“Hell yeah!” Tracii shouted with a fist pump in the air. He quickly turned to Kelly. “Think about what I said and find me inside! Come on, Mick.” With that he grabbed Mick’s arm and dragged him inside.

Kelly followed them, slipping into the bar behind a group of women since he didn’t have a ticket for the show. He wanted to know more about Tracii’s upcoming band. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Faster Pussycat. Their music suited him just fine and he liked the guys and the lifestyle. He even liked the sex with Brent and Greg. He actually got off on their occasional fights, mostly because they usually ended up fucking him in the end. The best thing was they never batted an eye if he wanted to go fuck a girl.

He was happy with his life, but there was something about Tracii Guns that made him take an interest. He didn’t want to fuck or be fucked by him, but he wanted to know more. He could tell Tracii had a vision and he knew Mick was the type of guy to get things done. He’d heard Mick’s name mentioned in passing and he knew the guy was working on acquiring connections in the music industry. Faster wasn’t signed just yet. Like all bands, they were working on it.

In the dark bar, he saw Tracii run to the front of the stage. Mick hung back and leaned on the bar to order a beer. Kelly followed him. The guitarist didn’t seem to notice him as he turned to follow Tracii, beer in hand. Kelly, still at a loss of words, quickly reached over him to grab a handful of peanuts.

“So he worked his magic on you too, huh?” Mick asked.

“What?” Kelly mumbled around a mouthful of peanuts. _Why did I shove them in my mouth when I want to talk?_

“Tracii. He’s like a magnet with people. Doesn’t even matter what sex you are.”

“Is everyone out here gay?” Kelly asked. “The first West Coast band I’m in and I’m getting fucked up the ass twice a day from two different guys. Then the next band that shows interest in me wants to fuck me too. I mean, I love sex any which way, but seriously? ”

“Whoa, hey, no. I didn’t mean it that way,” Mick said quickly. “I meant Tracii just attracts people in general. People are drawn to his personality and energy, especially singers. Besides Tracii’s got a boyfriend and he didn’t have that starry eyed look when he looked at you. Didn’t you see how many questions he asked you about your bass playing and music? He digs you, but only musically, not sexually.”

“And what about you?”

“Me?” Mick asked though it came out like a statement. He took a step back and slowly looked Kelly over. “Well, if you offered me a night I wouldn’t say no. But I’m not anywhere near as kinky as those guys in Faster are so you can relax. And if it makes you feel better I have a girlfriend and a lot to do each day. I don’t have time for a second fuck no matter how hot it would be.”

Kelly smiled awkwardly, not knowing whaat else to say. The topic didn’t bother him. He just didn’t know how to respond.

“By the way, where are your keepers? I’m surprised they let you out of their sight for more than a minute.”

“They’re not my masters. People are making a bigger deal out of this situation than they should,” Kelly protested.

“That’s people,” Mick stated. A slight smirk twisted on his lips. “My theory is you’re the real Kelly’s twin. You should murder your sexy twin that way you’d piss off two pussycats and make them _your_ slaves.”

“You’re kind of weird,” Kelly said with a laugh.

“Cheers to that.” Mick clicked his beer against Kelly’s causing the bassist to laugh again.

“So do you always just hang out with Tracii?” Kelly asked as he watched the guitarist going crazy as WASP came out.

“He has talent and I like his energy,” Mick replied factualy. “If he could just focus a little better, we’d have a great band.”

“You need a bass player?”

“I can always play bass if we can’t find a good rhythm guy to hang with him.”

“I’ll keep it in mind then.”

“I thought you weren’t on the market.”

“Not right now. But it’s like you said.” Kelly’s smile widened. “I like his energy. Plus WASP is a killer group.” He pointed at Tracii going nuts. “And I like The Zep, so at least he has good taste. See you around.”

Mick smiled a little as he watched Kelly make his way to a girl. Within minutes his arms were around her and they were making out. He laughed, knowing that Kelly wanted to prove to Mick that he wasn’t just Faster’s boy toy. Turning away, he threaded through the crowd to hang out with Tracii.

After the show, Tracii shook Mick’s arm as he spoke, “Riley is so cool, dude! He’d be so awesome in our band! I mean, did you hear that sound? It’s the drums, man. It was tight!”

“But you know we really need a rhythm guitarist and a singer, right?” Mick handed Tracii the lit joint.

“You should play rhythm,” Tracii countered as he exhaled all of the air from his lungs. He sighed happily as a dreamy look came over his face. “We already clicked and we haven’t killed each other yet so that means we can work together. You should totally be our second guitarist.”

“Then we need a bass player and singer.”

“And Kelly can play bass. See? I’m perfect at forming bands and all this business shit you’re always on about,” Tracii said. He paused and smiled brightly up at the neon sign.

“How about we talk it over tomorrow? I still have some calls to make before we can do much more.”

“Mm, okay. Sounds good to me,” Tracii replied. With Mick’s help the pair stumbled to Mick’s car.

…

 

Steve sighed with a mixture of exhaustion and frustration. The set seemed to take extra long and he felt too exposed on stage, mostly because of Tracii. The kid had stared at him throughout the entire set, constantly cheering him and whistling. Music made Steve hot, there was no question. It worked a lot of the guys up with adrenaline and inflating their egos to exuberant levels. These feelings usually led to lots of sex with groupies. Unfortunately for Steve his fantasies for the evening were involving Tracii instead of the big-titted red head in the front row. She’d even been bit the strap of her tank top and flashed the band a couple of times. Yet, all Steve wanted was a flat body and a hard dick as he walked back to the tiny dressing room. It sucked.

“About time you got here,” Phil said in a silky voice.

Steve nearly came on the spot when he saw the vocalist perched on the couch. His legs were crossed elegantly as if he was British royalty, but his smile was anything but regal. His wanton lips were tempting and his pout was the perfect blend of demure and sexual appetite that drove Steve mad. Phil’s back was straight, but his fingers clawed restlessly at the knee whole in his jeans. His open button up shirt strategically fell to one side exposing a sculpted shoulder.

“Come ‘head. Don’t leave me hanging any longer or I might just leave,” Phil said as he patted the space on the couch.

Steve wavered on his legs but followed the command, nearly launching himself onto Phil. The Brit laughed and pushed against Steve’s chest to help the other balance. Steve didn’t care if he fell and reached between between their bodies. Crudely he uncrossed Phil’s legs and planted his hand beside Phil’s crotch for balance so he could attached his mouth to Phil’s neck. Phil laughed again as he leaned back into the couch. All of his regal form being disrupted by the sexually starved drummer. Steve replaced his hand with his knee so he could push Phil’s hair away from his neck to lavish more attention on the supple skin. Phil arched his body into Steve’s enjoying the sensations coursing over his skin. Wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck he tossed his head back moaning softly into Steve’s hair. After spending a while on Phil’s neck, Steve’s lips moved up to Phil’s cheek, kissing and licking the soft skin there.

“Eh, love?”

“Mph,” Steve grumbled against Phil’s skin.

“Who was that little guy practically drooling over you in the pit?”

Steve immediately stopped and pulled back. _Oh shit. He saw Tracii? Fucking punk ass kid!_

“I don’t know. There are a lot of fans. I don’t know all of them personally,” Steve lied smoothly and reached for Phil’s belt.

“But, love,” Phil protested as he closed his hand around Steve’s. “I’ve seen him hovering around you before. I’m just curious as to what his name is.”

Steve sighed, but he knew Phil could be stubborn so he had to say something. And it was better if he didn’t lie, that would just bring out more of his stubbornness. “Tracii. His name is Tracii.”

“Do you know anything else about him?”

“Only that he likes my drumming a lot and is a pretty big fan of WASP. He’s a huge fan of Jimmy Page, has practically modeled his entire guitar playing after the legend, and he’s more hyper than a seven year old on a sugar rush.”

Phil appeared to think this over before pressing, “Is that all?”

“That’s usually all he talks about when he’s around me. He talks to everything with a pulse. I think he even would talk to dogs if they would sit still long enough to listen. Can we get back to fucking now?”

“Hm,” Phil hummed as his arms slipped to around his shoulders. “Why are you getting so worked up? Do you fancy him?”

“What? Fuck no! I want you, not that pipsqueak. I want to fuck you right now and you want to talk!”

“Okay, love. It’s okay. I was only asking. It’s natural to have crushes on fans. Who doesn’t want to be admired?”

“I don’t want him. And fuck, please tell tell me _you_ don’t want him.”

“Now, now, love, let’s not get jealous. I came to your dressing room for a good time. Now let’s have at it,” Phil said and kissed Steve’s mouth hard, almost possessively, before the drummer could rebuttal.

Steve coughed slightly against his lips, but was unable to break away from the pressure that was forcing its way into his mouth. The hard slippery tongue was begging for more from the drummer. All thoughts of Tracii and jealousy were instantly ripped from Steve’s mind and he slid his own tongue down Phil’s throat. He pushed his entire body, not just his mouth, against Phil’s taking full control of the kiss and dragging out deep guttural moans of arousal from the Brit beneath him. Phil was melting in his arms and his submission was turning Steve back on. He could feel the strain in both of their jeans as he sucked Phil’s lips harshly, but the Brit just continued to purr and render to putty under his touch.

With a loud abrupt smack, Steve pulled back and looked down at the debauched Phil panting beneath him. His pupils were dialated and his eyes were watery almost glazed over in heat. They only saw Steve. Phil’s mouth glistened from the saliva running down his bruised lips. Taking Phil’s head in both hands, Steve leaned in breathing hard against the wet skin.

“I was going to fuck you, but now I think I want to keep your mouth shut, so you’re going to suck me. Got that?”

Phil smiled weakly as he tried to ease his ragged gasps for air. As he exhaled, he purred, “Anything you want, love.”

Steve growled at the ease in which Phil submitted to him, but decided not to ask questions. Instead, he unlaced his leathers and pulled himself free. Hunger filled Phil’s eyes as he watched the drummer’s movements. Without any more prodding, Phil moved forward and took Steve in his mouth. The drummer immediately started pumping himself into the other’s mouth, wanting it fast and not caring if it was sloppy. He was trying to eradicate any lingering thoughts of Tracii from Phil’s mind so he’d be the only one occupying his head. His plan backfired as he realized that what made him cum in the end was the thought of Tracii down on his knees and sucking his cock dry.

_God damn it._

…

The practice was painful at best. Slash kept taking impromptu solos that deverged from the entire beat and rhythm the guys had created. Other times, he’d physically move himself to a corner for a deeper exploration of his guitar and the frustration brewing in his body. Both times, Steven and Duff would stop playing and would have to coax the moody guitarist back into their jam session. And each time Slash would grunt and reluctantly make his way back to the pair. Together, Road Crew would pick up where they were jamming, but Slash continued to stray from the others. His tone was getting angsty and dark, darker than either of the other musicians had ever heard him play. They weren’t sure what was wrong.

Steven was growing more and more agitated and opted to glare menacingly at Slash who promptly ignored him. Slash hung his head, trying to find something buried in his guitar but only finding himself face to face with his own severe feelings. He wished his hair were longer so he could block Steven from every line of his sight. Steven growled and shouted at Slash to snap out if, but the guitarist just grunted and turned his back on the drummer in retaliation.

Duff hated seeing Steven’s normally happy-go-lucky face gnarled into a distorted frown. Trying to bring Steven out of it, in hopes of getting to Slash, Duff would turn his body to face the drummer head on. This effectively distracted Steven and encouraged the drummer to fall into pocket with him. Yet, it also infuriated Slash. Duff couldn’t see him since his back was turned to the irate guitarist, but Slash shit daggers at Duff’s fine ass. Slash gritted his teeth as he watched Steven’s tempo increase and pound the drums harder under Duff’s emboldening gaze. He hated the way Steven’s hands moved and manipulated the sticks. He hated that those soft hazel eyes were locked onto Steven, watching every move his body made. He hated that Steven got to his stare at Duff’s pelvis where his bass guitar lay. Slash hated Steven, hated Duff, and hated himself.

He had drifted away again, when Steven threw his drumsticks down and shouted, “Where the fuck is your focus today, asshole!”

“The hell, are you talking about, dumbass?” Slash grumbled, still not looking at the drummer.

“You know fucking well what I’m talking about! Your head’s so far up your ass you’re not even trying to lock in with us. Duff and I are carrying this whole jam session when you just want to brood like a little bitch in the corner…”

“You can never keep a beat to save your sorry ass!” Slash yelled back.

“ _I_ can’t?” Steven yelled, rounding his drums. “Don’t blame me for your shit attitude! I’m a fucking awesome drummer! You’re just bummed, because you can’t pound…”

“Don’t even fucking go there, you…”

“Guys. Hey, guys, come on. Let’s just cool it,” Duff said as calmly as he could. Placing a hand between the fuming musicians he studied each of their reactions. They seemed to be restraining themselves, but barely. “Let’s take a break or maybe call it a day. Maybe it’s just not the right time to jam, you know? Let’s grab a drink and chill.”

The two musicians looked at Duff, their eyes occasionally darting back to the other. The charged silence was deafening and violent. Duff watched them both carefully, missing the root of the fight, but ready to prevent a real one from happening.

“Fuck you,” Slash hissed finally and left.

The door slammed violently behind him, leaving Duff gaping at him. He hadn’t expected the guitarist to respond like that. The thing he loved the most about Slash was his dedication to the music. It was the one thing that Duff always felt Slash could do no matter how fucked up his life was. That’s the way Duff felt about music, and he’d found a kinship with the other instantly about that.

Steven cursed Slash out under his breath as if Duff wasn’t there. The bassist watched the drummer’s whole demeanor change into a furious little demon right before his eyes. He wanted to ask Steven if they’d had a fight. He wanted to help them get over it, but at the moment words didn’t seem to be Steven’s forte.

The lingering tension was starting to eat away at Duff’s last resolve and he found his hands starting to shake. His entire body was shaking, and he felt hot and dizzy. Just like the room, his chest was too tight. He couldn’t breath and his vision was fading in and out. A hand suddenly clamped down on his shoulder.

“Want a drink? I’ll pay,” Steven offered. His voice was still irate, yet cooling slightly.

Duff felt woozy, but he instinctively clasped Steven’s shoulder. Feeling the firmness of another’s body centered him and the obscure feeling left his limbs. His visions cleared and finally sharpened. He took a few shallow breaths, and said, “Yeah, sure.”

His voice had come out broken but the uneven tempo went unnoticed by the drummer who was already headed to the door. With his hand still clutching Steven’s elbow, Duff was dragged along. That suited him fine since he was unconsciously using Steven as a walking stick.

The silence fell upon them once again as they headed down the California streets, music blasting from the radio. Duff was okay with this since it gave him a chance to recover from whatever that was. He passed it off as nothing and continued to push his windblown hair out of his eyes. Steven opted to not run the next red light and instead lit a joint. He took a long drag and held it out to Duff with a hint of a smile on his still incensed lips. They shared a joint as Steven continued to run red lights and drive over the limit. Duff accepted it with a grateful nod, at least glad that a part of the friendly Steven was coming back out again. He’d started to really like the annoying little fluff ball. It always amazed him, as selfish as Steven was, how much he shared with Duff and even Slash. When he wasn’t mad at him that is. Duff only hoped Steven would share with him now.

“Sorry about all that shit. Slash has these funks from time to time. It’s usually just moodiness and his guitar is the cure. It’s kind of fucked up his guitar wasn’t doing it for him today. Guess it’s different shit he’s going through. It’s nothing to really worry about. He’ll hold a grudge only for a period of time, but he usually bounces back pretty fast.”

“So what exactly has Slash pissed today?”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t know. He might be constipated, well, no, that’s probably not it this time,” Steven replied as he turned down Melrose.

Duff wanted to laugh, but he was too bothered by Slash’s mood. He hated watching the guitarist draw away from him, and the band. He loved playing with Slash. He was special. Slash was a gifted musican, Duff could tell. When they had locked in, Duff felt something special that border on something even deeper. Duff wasn’t sure what that was, but he knew he didn’t want to lose whatever it happened to be. Now Slash was so distant, it was like their musical partnership was deteriorating before Duff’s very eyes. “Did someone piss him off?”

“Not that I know of.”

“He just seemed extra ticked today.”

“He probably just needs a good fuck. His hand can only get him so far.”

Duff did laugh at this one.

“I’m serious,” Steven said, exhaling a thick plume of smoke. He passed the joint back to Duff. “Maybe you should let him fuck you.”

The blonde was mid toke when Steven said this and he choked on his inhale. Steven mumbled apologies as Duff spluttered and covered his mouth. His eyes watered as the vapor invaded his eyeballs. Turning to Steven, he asked, “Why would fucking me help Slash?”

“Hmm? Oh, well, because when he first saw you all he could talk about were how fine your ass was. Said it looked like a lady’s and he wanted to pound it hard and wondered if anyone had been there before or if he’d be the first one.”

Duff turned white as Steven continued his unnecessarily long explanation of Slash’s attraction to Duff’s ass.

“He also wondered if you were a natural blonde and was excited to find out. He had money that you weren’t since you dye your hair a lot. Then he…”

“Here’s your joint back,” Duff said, sticking the small stick right in Steven’s line of sight. The bassist wasn’t sure how to feel about this new information. Sure he loved people admiring his body, but fucking his body was another thing, especially, if Duff wasn’t the one instigating the fuck. He liked Slash, but he just didn’t know what to think about all of this. It could just be Steven’s slightly drunk and definitely high rambling, but was any of it based on truth? Was that the only reason Duff was accepted into Road Crew? So Slash could fuck him and dump him? Was he going to become Slash’s pet? _Fucking hell no!_

They pulled up to the bar, but instead of heading in, Duff walked in the opposite direction.

“Hey, Duff! Where you going? This is my treat. Get your ass back here!” Steven called.

Duff bristled at the last sentence. Without turning, he shouted back, “I just remembered I have to meet a girl. Can’t be late.”

“Need a ride?”

“I’m good. I have my bus pass,” Duff replied hurriedly and walked faster. His guitar case banged against his legs as he sped up his pace. Peculiar tears were pricking his eyes. He didn’t know why he was so sad about everything that was said. All he knew was that he had to get away from Steven as fast as he could. He could achieve this only physically, because Steven’s words about Slash were clinging to him like a second skin blocking out any of the warmth from the bright sun that burned above his head.

…

Tracii started shaking the second they walked into the venue. He looked around and saw the mass of people that had already gathered for the concert. He had been so excited for this concert, but now all he could think of was running away. Biting back a whine, he searched desperately for an exit. It was terrifying. The walls felt like a box, the people felt like a wall of their own that moved and threatened to suffocate him. His heart raced and he felt like he couldn’t breath. He tried to tell himself to calm down, that the mass of people would not suddenly hurt him, but he didn’t trust his mind. His mind was thinking all the wrong things and wasn’t about to change it’s course of thought. It was all too much. He felt alone, isolated and terrified to move.

“Move! The show’s about to start and we need to get the rest of these people in! You’re holding up the line!” The security guard yelled angrily. Tracii’s limbs locked up at that moment at the livid glare in the burly man’s eyes. A large hand reached out to give him a shove, but another hand intercepted it.

“Fuck off! Tell them to go around,” Izzy shouted back and put a protective arm around Tracii’s shoulders. Bringing Tracii in close to him, he murmured, “What about hiding out in the corner?” Izzy asked. Tracii looked at him questioningly. “Will you hide in a corner with me? We’ll stay there and I won’t leave you.”

Izzy tightened his grip on Tracii’s clenched hands. He didn’t even realize he was strangling himself with his bare hands that were caught up in the neckline of his shirt. The nerve-wracked guitarist nodded his head and allowed him to be led into the building. The corner was dark and secluded from people. Tracii felt better but he was starting to worry. He wasn’t sure what would happen if the crowd got out of control. He wasn’t sure how to relate to them or any of the multitudes of people here. He was shaking and gripping Izzy’s arms tightly. Hating that he was being so clingy with Izzy, he decided the best thing to do would be to leave Izzy and escape the dangers of the crowd.

Just as he released his grip on Izzy, he felt Izzy take hold of him. He whined and tried to pull away, but Izzy pulled him closer. Leaning in close, he whispered words of encouragement to the smaller guitarist and stroked his back. Tracii calmed slightly but still wanted to run away and fought against Izzy’s embrace. Izzy bowed his head and parted Tracii’s shirt. Tracii saw a flash of pink before he felt Izzy start licking his collarbone. A hand slid around to rub his bare waist. Tracii moaned and curled himself around Izzy’s body as the other guitarist continued to soothe him with his touches.

“We can leave, babe. Whenever you want,” Izzy promised soundly. “But this is one of your favorite bands. Do you really want to miss them perform? I’ll keep you safe.”

Tracii nearly cried from exhaustion and relief. Here was the one man who could talk him down from one of his weird phobias and help him enjoy life more. He also wanted to cry for the shame he felt from not being able to calm himself down and be more independent. Izzy’s eyes were full of patience and acceptance. There was no judgement, just the desire to see Tracii be happy.

“Tell me what you want to do,” Izzy implored.

Tracii glanced at the stage, knowing he wanted to see the band perform. He looked around the crowd, knowing that he didn’t feel safe. He looked at Izzy and then he knew what he wanted.

“I want to stay with you,” Tracii said.

Izzy smiled and squeezed him tight. Just then the roar of the crowd crescendoed and the main act came on stage. Tracii’s fear eased slightly as he felt Izzy’s tight embrace envelope him. In his arms he felt protected, shielded from the crowd and all the wrong that could happen. Now he could just focus on the band. Maybe even get a little closer to watch the guitarist’s fingers. The thought turned his stomach. He must have shook, because Izzy tightened his grip. No. Here was just fine. He craned his neck up and back to place an appreciative kiss on Izzy’s cheek. The diabolical guitarist moved at the last minute and stole a kiss on the lips. Tracii laughed and snuggled deeper into Izzy’s protective embrace.

  * ••



It was weird that Izzy thought of that concert at the current time. Yet seeing Axl behave in a similar fashion was even weirder. Did Izzy have a knack for attracting guys who needed to be comforted? Axl was his normal self, albeit a nervous wreck around new people, whil he watched Chris and Izzy practice. He didn’t let Izzy touch him or do anything to make him more relaxed like he usually did. In fact, Axl had recoiled from him. That grated on Izzy’s nerves, but in the end he resigned himself to letting Axl stew in his own feelings. Sometimes that was the best thing to do for the red head, but he didn’t understand his behavior and he wanted to. He usually did understand him in every facet of his personality. The fact he had gone upstairs and ended up soaking wet staring at Tracii sleeping was still an enigma to Izzy.

The red head had just run away, something Izzy knew Axl berated Izzy for doing several times in his head. Yet Izzy couldn’t see any anger or fright in his eyes as Axl tore past him. He couldn’t imagine Tracii did anything to him, even if he woke up and talked to Axl. Izzy also knew that Tracii would never do anything to hurt Axl or set him off, at least not intentionally. It was plausible that he’d make Axl uncomfortable by accident with his free spirit. That theory was debunked because of the indirect sadness in Axl’s eyes. It didn’t make much sense, but Izzy knew that was the look of Axl fighting back helpful tears, and words he really wanted to say, but couldn’t just yet. It was uncomfortable for Izzy to watch, but he was glad that Axl wasn’t shaking in fear.

 _Did he tell Tracii something? Did Tracii tell him something?_ Izzy wondered. He had watched the red head pull his car out of the driveway and drive off. There was no way Izzy could go after him. He didn’t have a car at the moment and he had no idea where to look for Axl in L.A. He could only hope that Axl would come back to him soon.

With a resigned sigh, he walked into Tracii’s room and climbed onto the bed. Balancing on all fours, he placed a kiss in the middle of Tracii’s back. The brunette mewed and shuffled among the sheets. Izzy tugged on the blanket, getting Tracii to roll off so he could wrap the naked guitarist in them. He caught a giddy smile on Tracii’s face as the younger rubbed his cheek against the pillow he was clutching. That faded smile made Izzy smile in return. Trepidation was slowly ebbing from his mind.

 _If anything Tracii helped him with something_ , Izzy reasoned. He stretched out over Tracii’s body to lie down next to him. Curling his body around the half sleeping form, he buried his nose in Tracii’s hair. A smile broke out over his lips as Tracii snuggled back into Izzy’s warm body. He knew the guitarist was falling into a deeper sleep, but that was okay. He’d inquire about Axl when Tracii woke up.

“Thank you, pussycat,” Izzy whispered in Tracii’s hair. The only sign that Tracii heard him was the softest sigh of pleasure as he burrowed deeper into Izzy’s body.

…

Izzy had led the still damp Axl down to the main room where he and Chris sat working on material. Chris wondered why the loud, chiding Axl had become so reserved all of a sudden. He looked like he was shaking and wanted to recoil into himself and hide from the world. It confused Chris, but one look from Izzy and he knew better than to press the issue. Letting it drop, he tried to talk shop with Izzy, but even that was shot down with one pointed glare from Izzy as he took his instrument back out of its case.

Reaching over, Izzy drew the trembling Axl into his body. He set the guitar in Axl’s lap and slung an arm around his shoulder. With his body, Izzy sheltered Axl from the harsh glare of afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window. The faintest smile, though it still looked unsure, crossed Axl’s lips as Izzy completed the musical embrace. Axl brought a hand to his lips as he intently watched Izzy’s fingers move up and down the frets. Occasionally it drifted down to watch Izzy’s pick flicking over the strings of the guitar’s body. His gaze was intense, almost mesmerized by the up close and personal site.

Chris noted that Axl was instantly much more animated than before despite his body remaining stoic. Izzy whispered softly to him, showing him what he did with the guitar to make it sound a particular way. Every so often he would remind Axl that if he sang the guitar would sound much better. He pointed out the notes Axl would have to hit to make it sound the best. Axl wrinkled his nose and grunted softly. Chris thought that meant Axl didn’t agree. Yet when prodded by Izzy to try it out, the disagreeable red head remained silent. Though he did continue to listen intently. If he agreed with something he’d barely nod his head, but shuffled his legs back and forth on the floor. Izzy caught each and every movement of Axl’s nonverbal communication and continued unperturbed. Chris caught Axl leaning slightly deeper into Izzy’s side, head cocked to just barely feel Izzy’s hair on his cheek. Izzy subconsciously responded with the smallest squeeze of Axl’s shoulders. Axl’s eyes fluttered from the sensation.

Chris smiled at the couple. They were such good friends, but he wondered if they knew that they were much more than just close friends. In that moment, Chris had his answer to the question that had been plaguing him since Izzy had stared hungrily at him back when they first jammed. He now knew why Izzy went so closed lip after that. He knew why he didn’t speak about his hometown or his past. It was because of Axl. Chris felt friendship could be very intimate, but the way in which Axl and Izzy were cocooned together made it apparent to anyone with two eyes that there was something deeper between them than friendship.

Izzy gently led Axl through the lesson. His path seemed like it was practiced, yet different in each reproach as if he had done this several times before. Axl still hadn’t started singing. Chris would bet money that this is the way Izzy had coaxed Axl’s singing voice out of him in the past. Axl did murmur phrases back to Izzy’s questions and gentle prods in his lowest register. He wondered if Axl didn’t want anyone else to hear what he said.

Looking up, Axl caught site of Chris watching him and immediately pulled away from Izzy. The guitar shot feedback as it was ripped from Izzy’s hands. His embrace with Axl as well as his axe was broken. Izzy frowned at Axl, but instead of getting mad he just rolled his eyes. Readjusting his body, he silenced the instrument’s cry with a hand. Chris uncovered his ears and grimace faded from his mouth. Izzy turned slightly, not giving Axl his back, but not looking anymore at the red head. Instead, he focused on his instrument.

Axl shot back into the corner and curled his legs into his chest. Sitting very still, he reminded Chris of a deer. His eyes were wide and slightly curious, yet seemed to be full of fear and anxiety. Izzy was lost to his newly discovered moment, strumming a new arrangement of chords from his guitar. Axl spared a few glances at Izzy though his eyes were narrowed since the guitarist ignored him. He remained silent, but his gaze shifted to the ceiling, the walls, the door and windows. He looked like a caged animal looking for escape but not knowing how to run.

“Hey, Chris,” Izzy said, “check this out.”

Chris was pulled from his study of Axl and focused his attention on a new rhythm Izzy was starting to build. The other guitarist stopped mid play and looked at Chris. Waiting.

“Okay,” Chris said as he made a note on a spare pizza box. Righting his guitar in his lap, he said, “Play that last part again, but down tune your guitar.”

Izzy adjusted the guitar and played it again. His eyes lit up and he soon found more and more notes to accompany the start of his song. Chris was soon picking out notes that were building into a riff.

“Hang on. Try something like this,” Izzy interjected and started his own take on the riff Chris was creating.

Chris smiled as he realized what Izzy was doing. He was taking the riff and making it his rhythm. It was more melodic without being too commercial. It was becoming a mirror of the lead guitar part while still being it’s own entity. Chris and Izzy were so entrenched in their process they never saw the shaken and nervous Axl slipped out of the house.

…

Axl, or rather Bill lay in bed, thinking about Izzy or maybe it was Jeff. He wasn’t really sure any more who Jeff or Izzy was and he didn’t even know what room he was in. It wasn’t his childhood room. The streetlight on the corner was too bright. It was shining through his blinds effortlessly. Axl liked it. The lamppost felt like a guardian standing outside his window, protecting him from the lurking evil around the corners of this wicked little town. His sister’s house was a stark contrast from his childhood home. It was brighter at night and not shrouded in silenced misery. Axl felt like he could breath and still visit his mom if he really wanted to see her. He could even venture out to see his high school friends when he dared and know that he had a sanctuary to return to.

Yet, his childhood home was too strong of a memory for him to just completely ignore. The things he experienced within the confines of those walls made the structure into it’s own entity in Axl’s life. There were times he had the urge to go burn it to the ground regardless of who was in it. Then there were times he thought fondly of it, like the memory that was coming into his vision. It was the night when he first touched himself under the covers, against his skin, in the cloak of sinful darkness.

He remembered the night when he first touched himself in his childhood room. The street light down the street was burnt out and it was extra dark. Bill liked that. Somehow it felt less bad and more okay. His stepfather would have told him it was wrong and sinful to touch himself, but he needed to. He needed to discover how he felt and what it meant.

His motion was awkward and rough. It actually ended with him feeling more in pain than satisfied. He didn’t understand why everyone went nuts over it. The orgasm wasn’t as good as everyone made it out to be. His hips had jolted forward once or twice and that was it. No mind numbing feeling, no tingling in his limbs, nothing more than that followed his quick spasm. He felt gypped, especially because he’d been trying to understand the change in his feelings for Jeff. He had hoped that if he discovered more of himself, he’d be able to put into words what he was feeling for Jeff. At least if he could figure that out, he could work to get the asshole out of his head. Unfortunately after his little experiment, he was thrown back to square one on his feelings and just as confused as before.

Over the years of knowing him, Bill always thought it was just a strong friendship. Then Jeff left him, and he couldn’t stop thinking about him. He got better at masterbating and soon he was realizing just how good a self-induced orgasm could be when he thought of Jeff. Bill didn’t travel to California to skip jail. That was a lie he concocted on the bus ride. No. He went to find Jeff and to finally figure out what he wanted from his elusive friend. Then he found him, or found Izzy, who was Jeff only older, more experienced. Bill, or rather, Axl experienced the musical side of him from the sidelines. Axl hated that view because he couldn’t actively participate with Izzy in that realm. The one place he felt like he could fully understand Jeff and how he felt about him. Bill always felt so alive when they jammed together. Jeff had always encouraged him and gave him gentle pushes to sing more and pour his heart and soul into his lyrics. Yet, Bill shoved him out the door. And now when he re-connected with Jeff, Bill’s very soul held him back.

Now Axl was hiding inside of Bill in Indiana, under the covers of another bed. He was thankful his sister had moved out of their childhood home, and agreed to let him stay a few nights. She allowed him to hide from facing what he really wanted. He wasn’t ready to face himself, let alone his feelings. He could hide in the safety of familiar surroundings. The ones he learned to navigate and hide his true self in the mundanes of his hometown politics.

Lying in bed, his hand had been resting inside the waistband of his sweat pants. For the longest time it remained static as Bill thought over the jam session he watched. He thought of Jeff. How he’d grown and matured into the strong determined young man, Bill always knew he could become. His fingers slowly crawled over his hips, descending lower. He grasped and squeezed his cock, surprising himself when a soft moan escaped from his lips that were tightly pressed together. Inching further down, he tickled his balls, toying with them as he whispered soft words that always got him hot. His hips rolled shamelessly from that blissful feeling. His head jerked back as his mind raced with images of the new Jeff, playing guitar, smiling, smiling at Chris. That last one was a bad one. Bill tried to focus on just the smile and imagine the new Jeff was smiling at him instead.

It was harder to get back into the motion as he thought more about Chris and the way he called Jeff Izzy. Slamming his eyes shut, Bill dug deep within himself until he found Axl. Axl could do this. Axl could do what Bill couldn’t and everything Bill needed. In his mind’s eye he saw Izzy looming over him, smiling only for him. He imagined the gypsy like rock star running his fingers over his body, gliding down to play with him deliciously. He gritted his teeth as he exhaled hard through his nose. His eyes fluttered as they reacted to the sensations his brain conjured. Biting the inside of his lip and tensing his body, he kept going until he fell asleep.

Axl awoke sometime later by an intense beam of sunlight shining through the blinds on the window. Remembering what he’d been doing, he jolted fully awake. His hand quickly grabbed his crotch, but found it dry. His cock was flaccid. He hadn’t cum. Was the spell Izzy had over him finally breaking? No, because when Axl thought of losing Izzy again his heart fell in his stomach.

_I have to go back. I have to figure this out and I have to do something with myself. I know Jeff, er, Izzy, can help me get there. Maybe I don’t want to try to fuck him anymore. Maybe we can just talk. Maybe it’s just a deep friendship and its just Izzy placing these thoughts in my head. Maybe he’s the one who’s been pushing me into whatever this is._

_Yeah, that’s it. That’s all there is too our friendship, Izzy foolishly pushing me into something I don’t want, so that’s why nothing happened, and nothing will happen. It doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me. I can still attract women, like I should, I’m sure of it._

_Good. We can get past this shit. Maybe that other guy, T-something, can join our band. He seemed like a nice guy. He was at least nice to me. Maybe it’ll help make Izzy happy and he won’t ditch me as usual. It’s sick and wrong what he’s doing, but T seems like an okay dude. Yeah. He’s friendly enough and I’ll just reinforce my boundaries with him and then I can have Izzy with me all the time. Maybe then we can…_

He felt his groin grow uncomfortable. Looking down, he saw his cock hardening. His eyes doubled in size when he realized his last thoughts were not about Izzy.

_What the fucking hell is wrong with me?_

…


	8. (My Real) Mr. Brownstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hand on his ankle began to move. William watched it slowly crawl up to cup the back of his knee, tickling the skin slightly. Lowering his head, Jeff’s lips pressed a feather’s touch to Will ...

There was the faintest trace of warmth hovering on the bar’s windows. It seemed to be building as it seeped through the windows despite the overcast day that left the light dim and slightly hazy. It did little to ease Izzy’s wandering mind. No thoughts, only a dejected numbness settled in the catacombs of his mind. He tried to conjure thoughts. Feelings of happiness and desire washed over him when he thought of Tracii, but it was fleeting and diminished quickly. He thought of Axl coming to Chris’s house and watching the practice. That thought brought him joy and then immediately faded into oblivion like the previous one. He was agitated, happy, and borderline content all at once. His mind couldn’t keep up with the conflicting feelings brewing internally among his body parts and it eventually shut down into drifting aimlessly in the opaque chasm of his mind.

“Hey, Izzy!” Called a happy voice from the other side of the bar. The rising warmth grew stronger around Izzy’s bare hands that were dripping with perspiration from his glass. Yet, he stared indifferently at the lanky smiling punk making his way toward him. Duff stopped just short of him and took a half step back. “Uh, hey. It’s me, Duff. Do you remember me?”

Izzy blinked, realizing he probably looked pissed despite not being pissed at all at the interloper. He gave a nod and said, “Duff. Yeah. I remember you.” He looked down at the vacant stool next to him and asked, “You coming or going?”

“Sitting,” Duff chirped though there was a trace of a question in his statement. Izzy only nodded and sipped the only thing he could afford on the menu, water. He held the glass like a millionaire sipping the most expensive Bourbon.

“You seem off today,” Duff said reproachfully.

“So do you,” Izzy replied pointedly. He sighed when Duff cringed and took a long drink of his water. “I need a new job.”

“Really? Hey! I can get you a job where I work. It’s running deliveries for these guys. They’re cool, and it’s an easy way to make some decent bread.”

“Sounds good,” Izzy said and set his drink down. He glanced at Duff who’d ordered his own glass of water. He hadn’t bothered asking for a fancy glass and had gotten a normal soda glass with a straw. Duff peeled off the wrapper into a scrunchy ball. Laying it on the bar top, he dropped tiny bits of water on it and watched it move like a worm inching across the table. Izzy smiled at the small bit of enjoyment Duff was getting out of his kiddie’s trick.

Duff glanced sideways at Izzy, the guitarist glanced back as if he were intently waiting for Duff to continue speaking when he hadn’t spoken a word. This guy was never going to pry into Duff’s life or anyone’s for that matter. He let people talk to him, or at least the people he let into his inner circle, but he would never directly ask any of his friends what was wrong. Duff took it that it was just Izzy’s way of showing respect. Right now, he wished Izzy would just ask him flat out what was on his mind because it was killing him. Duff broke. “My band. It’s not working out.”

“What’s going wrong?”

“Their approach. Don’t get me wrong, they’re great guys and I like playing with them, but it’s just not right. Steven’s all double kick drums and Slash is going for over the top flashy solos. I mean, I get that the guitarists always want to show off, but this isn’t even a good show off. No, don’t get me wrong, I mean _he’s_ great. Slash is an amazing player, probably the best guitarist I’ve ever heard in my life that isn’t already famous. I’ve played with fifteen other bands and no one can hold a candle to that man. But the stuff he’s playing just to match the over powering drums just sucks ass.”

Izzy nodded, but smiled inside. _This punk’s got it so bad for Slash. That must be what’s eating him. He wants to leave the band, but he doesn’t want to lose his chance at Slash. I wonder if he’s fucked that kid yet and now he’s hooked. He’d be a great fuck._

“… So that’s where I’m at,” Duff finished bringing Izzy out of his deviant thoughts.

“I get it, man. It’s like that clown act KISS. Steven’s always nursed a hard-on for those guys, but a lot of it’s just show and not enough heart and meat.”

“Exactly. There’s not enough edge or attitude. I mean rock needs a fucking kick in the ass.”

“Or balls,” Izzy added with a smirk.

He was happy Duff had interrupted his silent drink. If it had been anyone else he would have been pissed and probably kicked their ass, but not Duff. The bass player was one of only about two people who could interrupt Izzy’s attempts at social mediation and not piss him off or derail his train of thought. It was a rare instinctual gift. Duff was easy in that respect and also became a calming presence for Izzy to have around. He needed more of those in his life.

Initially, he had come to the bar to be alone so he could hear his own voice. He needed it to break through the myriad of thoughts, voices, and anxiety swirling around in his head. His search for clarity was growing dimmer by the hour. The nip of drugs he took was barely helping. He vaguely wondered if Duff could help him sort out all the darkness that he had locked away.

From the streets he’d heard that Bill or rather Axl had been shacking up with Duff. And here was Duff to give him the straight truth. Izzy believed Duff was completely trustworthy. He entertained the idea of prying that topic open when Duff broke through the silence again.

“Izzy, you fuck guys right?”

“Yep,” Izzy replied. His interest was now greatly peaked. He weighed his personal agenda and motives in his head, but let Duff lead the conversation.

“Would you ever fuck me?”

 _The fuck?_ Izzy thought. He visibly jumped and lost his footing on the bar stool’s crossbar. His elbows draped on the bar top held him aloft and prevented him from falling off of the wobbly seat. Duff had grabbed his waist to steady him. Neither commented on Duff’s instinct, and the blonde did not let go until Izzy sat back down.

Izzy looked up at Duff with a little less shock than what was running through his brain. Duff’s gaze darted in several directions, always coming back, but never fully settling on Izzy. No words came from Izzy’s mouth as he inspected Duff. His eyes ran over his face and hands as if that would provide him with a response. His brain could only run manage to create thoughts in his head, but couldn’t find sounds to match them.

 _Why are you so shocked?_ Izzy wondered to himself. _Well, is he really asking me to fuck him?_ He let his gaze trail down over Duff’s tight body, settling on his crotch and sliding along the slender curve of his hips to that supple ass. _Of course, you’d fuck that ass if he offered it, you idiot._ His eyes trailed back to Duff’s crotch and the bulge between his splayed legs. _Or hell. Maybe I’d let him fuck me. Wonder what he’s got packing in those jeans._ His mind now seemingly have cleared ran with steamy ideas. _Yeah. That would be fucking hot too._

Duff shifted in his seat and re-positioned his legs, forcing Izzy to look directly at him. He couldn’t read the look on Duff’s face but it was considerably redder than before. Remembering the hushed tone of Duff’s question, Izzy shoved away his curiosity of the blonde punk’s ass and cock. He asked, “So guess it’s safe to say you’re in to guys then.”

“Can you just answer the question?” Duff asked slightly impatient. “I just want to know if I’m fuckable.”

“Well, yeah, dude, but you know I’ve got my hands full of Tracii right now,” _And Axl_ , he added silently, “So I’m probably not a good one to ask for a fuck. What brought this on?”

“I wasn’t asking you to fuck me!” Duff exclaimed, and then bit his lip. Caught between the weird looks from other patrons and worrying that Izzy was offended. Izzy wasn’t one a guy he’d turn down, but he just didn’t want a one-night stand. “Not that I… or not that you aren’t…”

Izzy waved a hand to dismiss Duff’s concern, smiling when the blonde visibly relaxed. _I was right though. He wants Slash._

“I think someone’s pissed at me for, well, you know…” Duff attempted to make a gesture of what he wanted to say, but Izzy continued to frown at him. Even Izzy wasn’t sure if he was being a jackass or Duff was just horrible at charades. He watched the animated blonde try desperately to avoid saying the words that would clear up the confusion and awkwardness. With a slump of his shoulders, Duff placed his elbows on the bar. Placing his forehead in his hands, he finally blurted out, “Someone’s mad at me for being fuckable.”

Unrestrained laughter burst from Izzy’s mouth. Catching the sight of Duff frowning at him, he waved his hand and wiped away his tears. “Sorry, man. I’m sorry, but that was… just the way you phrased it was fucking priceless.” Heaving a big sigh, he asked, “So who thinks you’re “fuckable” and is pissed at you for it? Need me to go beat them up for you?”

Duff cracked a small smile. Izzy smiled back seeing the smallest indication of shyness on Duff’s lips. “No. It’s a guy in the band I’m currently in. He’s really pissed and the other guy said I should let him fuck me.”

“Fuck which guy?” _Come on Duffy. I want to hear you say his name. This is the only time I’ll be a prick to you if you just say you want to suck Slash’s dick._

Duff sighed, realizing Izzy was making him fess up to his circumstances. “It’s Slash. Our last band practice was shit. Not just because of the direction they were going in, but because Slash was acting weird and ended it early. He never does that. Steven said it’s because Slash hasn’t gotten laid and said I should let Slash fuck me because he likes my ass.”

“Well, it’s not half bad,” Izzy agreed without a hint of his earlier lust.

The neutral tone of Izzy’s statement made Duff feel even more uneasy. Then it dawned on him. “But Slash doesn’t fuck guys. He has a girlfriend w and I’ve been trying to push away my feelings and just get on with life, but it’s getting fucking harder. And then Steven said what he did and now I’m totally fucked up and don’t really know what to think.”

“Slash is not exlcusive to guys,” Izzy corrected, taking a sip of water. “I think he secretly wants to be, because who wants to see a rock star in the making plow another dude? You gotta fuck chicks and fuck them hard. That’s what those horny teenage bastards want to see on stage. Debauched as that is. Tracii gets it. We both do. It’s why we still make the scene with girls and not just always each other.”

“How do you know this?” Duff asked leaning in. Before Izzy could answer Duff’s eyes went wide and he said, “Wait. _You’ve_ fucked Slash, haven’t you?”

“Nope.”

“So he fucked you?” Duff pressed, determined to find out any history between the two guitarists.

“Nope, but Tracii has. Tracii’s taught him a lot of what he knows in that department. He’s even watched Slash masturbate a number of times. He claimed it was something about being able to teach him techniques. I think that’s bullshit. Tracii just likes to watch people do it. He’s a fucking handful of horniness.”

Under other circumstances Duff would have laughed. “Were they… um, ever uh together?”

“Before I knew him I can’t say, but now,” Izzy’s voice dropped low as he hissed the next sentence, “He’s mine so Slash better keep his hands to himself.”

Duff scooted back in his chair. The tone sounded menacing if not a little possessive. It was very different from the Izzy he knew. His Izzy was normally easygoing, sometimes aloof, but always friendly to Duff when the two met up. This side of Izzy rarely came out and when it did it was always a little scary to Duff. No matter how much he liked the guy, Izzy had a mean streak and you did not want to cross that line with him.

 _Calm the fuck down, Duff,_ Izzy though. His heart made him feel for the jittery bassist, despite letting his darker possessive side out just a minute ago. He set aside his drink and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He laid them beside Duff’s balled up hands.

“So,” Izzy said, puffing a solo cigarette to life. He tossed the lighter beside the cigarette box. “Do I need to tell Slash to keep his hands to himself and stay out of your pants too?”

“Uh, no. I’m not a chick,” Duff replied haughtily, but he still smiled as he bummed a cigarette.

“And Tracii is? Oh!” With an artful flick of his wrist, he asked with humor, “So you _want_ him in your pants? Should I tell him you like him for you?”

“No!” Duff exclaimed. Izzy laughed as Duff narrowed his gaze at him. Looking down at his water, Duff mumbled around his cigarette, “So Slash really is gay.”

Izzy took a drag on his cigarette, flicking one eye to study Duff who sat befuddled with his cigarette between his fingers, slowly bruning itself down to ashes that fell over Duff’s fingers. “Why do you sound so pissed about it?”

“I just, well, I’d convinced myself he wasn’t and I’d never have a chance. I figured that I could just be infatuated with his musical ability. His solos, fuck, man.” Duff leaned back as if he was hearing Slash’s music thundering over the airwaves and cascading down his ears to deep inside his core where they ignited so many feelings and not just the ones building in his pants. “They’re like being fucked and exploding with every fragment of your anger, pain, and happiness all at once. It’s something so dark and personal that it’s beautiful and it leaves you feeling naked in his gaze. And yet he never sees you with his eyes, just his soul. He hides behind his hair. It’s getting longer too. He hides there because he knows how deeply and hotly his music touches people. I think he’s scared of it himself. It’s a fucking lot to handle, that kind of power. I don’t know, but it made me want to fuck him even more, but then I figured he couldn’t be like me. No one as good as that has ever wanted me, I’m just a scummy punk.”

“Being self deprecating and submissive isn’t becoming to you, you know. He likes domineering partners not shy little boys who don’t know what they want.” Izzy replied with finality in his tone. He tried not to look at Duff despite the blonde staring at him with a perplexed and slightly hopeful look on his face. While Izzy liked helping Duff, he didn’t want to be the reason something went wrong. The worry that he would be the cause of any pain for his friend pricked his anxiety. He hoped that what he said would help Duff find the path that meant the least amount of pain. He knew what pain was. He’d been responsible for a lot of pain in another and he had vowed never to hurt someone like that ever again. _Then why the fuck am I with Tracii? Oh, yeah, because I can’t fucking keep it in my pants._ “You’re also making me sick with this romantic bullshit. I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Same goes for you, asshole. You should try being more romantic sometime. You might actually get even more than you’re getting,” Duff teased and poked Izzy’s arm.

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” Izzy replied back with mock anger. His eyes lit up when an ingenious thought invaded them. “You know, Duff. If you need help bringing out your dominant side, I could be persuaded to help you with that.”

“Oh, fuck you, Stradlin!”

“There you go! You just passed step one. Congratulations!”

Duff laughed and for the first time since sitting down with Izzy, he relaxed. “So let me tell you more about this job…”

Izzy listened intently, happy to finally have a distraction from the conflicting thoughts and emotions brewing in every crevice of his mind and heart. He hadn’t found a distraction, because his main one, music, was riddled with the conflicting images, touches, and pain he’d been trying to escape ever since that night at Chris’s house and before. It was torture, and Duff was his only virtue that could set him free from his self-built prison.

…

 

The driver announced their stop as the bus braked to a halt. This time Axl, not Bill, stepped off the bus. It was in the middle of the afternoon. The sky was bleak and overcast, yet humid just enough to agitate his skin. This time there was no welcoming committee. He breathed a sigh of relief. He knew where his punk angel was, but he had no idea where the man in the black trench was. That man probably only came out at night when the crazies and evil ones came out to play. Part of him wanted to see him again. The danger and excitement the evil creature exuded drew him in, despite knowing the pain that would eventually arise from being near him for too long.

His steps grew heavy as he placed each foot in front of the other. He walked as if he was being led to the gallows. Yet, he should be happy that he returned to where he could find Izzy. _Izzy._ His mind drifted to the skinny guitarist as he thought of watching him play. It hurt Axl so much to watch his Izzy lock in like that with another musician. The way he and Chris played off each other, physical boundaries were being shattered before his very eyes. In his mind he could see himself shrinking back from the pair. He saw the smile on Chris’s face as he did so. His mind morphed the seemingly pleasant smile into a wicked taunt. _Is Chris taking Izzy away from me?_ Axl thought.

Izzy hadn’t batted an eye when Chris touched him or his guitar. He’d always been viciously protective of his instruments, except when Axl would flash him a curious look. Always, Izzy would draw him close and show him what he had learned from the pack of wild boys he ran with back home. Even in Indiana, Izzy was learning tricks and turning tricks. Axl could see now, Izzy had been preparing himself for the wilds of L.A. He wondered if Izzy could tell the future, like a gypsy. He wondered what Izzy was like in his first couple days out here. He wondered if Izzy sold his body for a hot meal and a place to stay. That made Axl shudder and wrap himself in his arms.

Cold metal touched his skin as he leaned against a foreign door. He wasn’t even sure where he was going. His body was trying to escape his mind, because it was sucking the life force out of him from all the memories and wild thoughts it conjured. His steps had grown cumbersome and laborious because his mind followed him at every turn.

He saw himself with tears in his eyes as he thought about reaching out to Izzy to pull him away from Chris. His mind wouldn’t let him. Instead, he sat and tilted his head back, trying to keep the tears inside with his pain and longing he kept buried deep inside. His mind was still not free. Why he went back to his prison cell of twenty years he didn’t know. Why he was back here in L.A. and not able to experience the joy of freedom, he didn’t know. He hadn’t been able to cum back home. Somehow he knew here wouldn’t be any different. There was a hollow spot in his chest that was filled with an anchor that weighed him down. He couldn’t move and he was trapped in the never-ending cyclone of being so close to Izzy, yet so far away from him all over again. It happened many times before.

The only thing that managed to fracture his glass prison was the guy who held his hair back. He remembered the soft comforting words he whispered to him as he emptied his guts. He remembered…

  * ••



Tracii leaned him against the bathroom wall. Axl whimpered when the other stood. Tracii grabbed a towel and tucked it around Axl’s body. Seeing the red head relax from the fluffy weight, he went to the sink. Wetting and ringing out the washcloth, he knelt beside Axl and began wiping his mouth.

“You have really pretty hair,” Tracii said as he worked a piece of vomit out of a strand. “Is it natural?”

Axl mumbled a confirmation and Tracii smiled.

“We don’t get too many red heads out here. Died or natural. Everyone’s dying their hair black or blonde. I like that you have red hair. It means you’ll stand out in the crowds.” He rinsed out the washcloth and came back to finish wiping his mouth. “So you’re a friend of Izzy’s I take it. You’re a lot like him when he first came out, a little shy, but so full of potential. Do you play an instrument?”

Axl only managed a shrug. He was slightly light headed.

“I bet you sing. Izzy mentioned a very special friend who could sing.”

Axl smiled weakly.

“Can I wash your hair?” Axl’s eyes widened at the unusul request. “I don’t want you to have to smell like puke. Your hair’s too pretty. We can leave your clothes on and you can just lean over the tub.”

Axl nodded and allowed Tracii to lift and drag him to the tub that was filling with water. He hung limply over the side, watching the water level rise. He smiled faintly at Tracii who tested the temperature. Once satisfied, he started working on Axl’s long hair. The guitarist’s hands massaged his scalp. It felt good and Axl swore he purred and leaned further into the touch. Tracii continued, sometimes saying nice things or telling him a story about Izzy. Axl enjoyed Tracii’s voice and the things he talked about. They all revolved around music, which Axl liked. It was strange at how intimate the moment felt to Axl, stranger still that he wasn’t bothered by the intimacy. The feeling was actually something he’d been searching for. He just didn’t expect to find it in this stranger’s hands.

A towel was being rubbed over his hair as the voice asked, “Want to rest in a bed?” Axl bristled. The boy laughed. “Not like _that._ By yourself.”

Then Axl did something he didn’t understand. He laid his head down on the blanket of towels and interlaced his fingers with Tracii’s. His heavy eyes fell shut as the comforting skin locked with his.

  * ••



Even now, he didn’t understand that part of the memory. The only pain Axl felt from that memory was that when he awoke, Tracii had left him and gone back to his bed. The air was thick with the smell of pot, but Axl vividly remembered standing in the doorway gazing at the naked man wrapped in the sheets. He felt something, but what he couldn’t decide. That feeling helped lighten his steps and he soon found that he had left the lightpost and made his way to the Sunset Strip. The ladies and boys of the strip clubs were awake and running their errands before their shifts. Two girls pulled up next to him.

“Hey cutie! Are you new? You look new.”

“Want to come see us tonight?” Another asked, drawing her knees under her to push herself up and over the car door.

Axl bristled. Though they both looked appealing he was nervous and didn’t want to let his inexperience show. He tried to hide the trepidation on his face, but their hungry wild smiles broke his resolve and he felt his knees buckle. He tried to remind himself of the women back home, but they all looked liked mere girls compared to these jungle cats. They were ready to play and had marked him as their toy. He wasn’t sure what to think or say. His mind searched for escape, but they weren’t helping his mind ease into a comfortable place. There blonde hair was teased high, he tried to look at that and then it dawned on him.

“Do you know how to get Orchid Street? I need a ride.”

“Sure we do,” the driver replied.

“But you won’t get there for free,” the other purred as she ran a hand down the middle of her breasts. She gave him a wink as she flashed him a small bag of white powder. “Get in, cutie. We’ll take real good care of you.”

Axl hesitated, but he knew where he wanted to go. He wasn’t sure about how to get there, but maybe it’d prove to be a good distraction for him. He swung his leg over the car door and slid into the back seat. The passenger crawled into the back with him as the other pressed down on the pedal. Within minutes, Axl feel under their spell. At the stoplight, he succumbed to his first taste of powdered poison. The rest was a high-speed blur of tongues and positions. Still his mind drifted from the beauties riding him and sucking him off to other more pleasing forms. He didn’t feel like he was in danger, but he was starting to feel not right with these women. He only prayed they really knew where Orchid street was and that he’d get to those warm arms soon.

….

The needle flared with a metallic sneer in the light of the full moon as Izzy held it high above his head. Flicking it twice, he laid it against his balled up jacket. He slapped his arm to coax a blue vein to the surface amidst the faint red mark of his fingers. Caressing the needle, he lowered it to the pulsing thin azure line. The sharp length penetrated him slowly. He didn’t flinch already succumbing to the familiar and painful ritual. The rush of heat and release was now a welcomed sensation from the silver head. Tightening his fist harder, he begged for more pain than the hit could give him.

The sweet toxin flooded his bloodstream, threading like an electric current into his stoic body. Withdrawing the empty needle, he tossed it aside. He pulled the rubber tubing off his thin bicep and lied back to wait for the drug to take away his pain.

William had found him or rather Axl had. _Whoever the hell that is._ Jeff never really wanted or meant to hide from him. They both needed space after it happened. Jeff had cursed himself every day for not staying. He abandoned William. William shouldn’t forgive him. He hated thinking of him as Axl. He was William to Izzy. Then again, he was never really called Jeff much these days. Everyone back home had quickly adopted his nickname from his father’s last name. Yet when William whispered _Jeff_ that was the only name he ever wanted to hear.

The drug wasn’t doing what it usually did. Izzy still felt remorse and sadness rake his frame. He needed more but that was all he had. It used to be he only needed a little, but not anymore. He needed more. He wanted to erase the pain of letting Axl leave him again. He wanted to forget that he should have held him closer when he was soaking wet and shaking like a frightened boy.

Yet, Axl seemed to only be a lingering shell of what William had been. A bruised and hurting kid that he should have cared for more, like Jeff did that first night on the playground after the neighborhood kids attempted to crucify him on the jungle gym. Instead, he faded away from William’s side and now Axl had run away from him. It seemed like they would constantly play this game of cat and mouse with each other. Forever switching roles until one of them died.

“Why are you sitting over here all alone?” A hand pushed the sleeve of his black t-shirt up. Turning his head he found a drowsy Tracii pressing a kiss to his naked shoulder. Izzy smiled as the younger curled his body around his and purred, “I like it better when you’re in my bed.”

Tracii’s voice was soothing but paled in comparison to William’s. It soothed Izzy’s heart to have Tracii. He placed a hand over Tracii’s and leaned back into his warm body. “You don’t do this shit. I didn’t want to bother you practicing your guitar.” Lips cupped Tracii’s cheek in a thankful kiss.

“You never bother me, darling. I told you, you can do whatever you want,” Tracii insisted. His hands ventured under the hem of Izzy’s shirt. His mouth started to suck slightly on his neck. Tracii chuckled softly and his breath tickled Izzy’s neck. “Well… as long as you do me too.”

“Cheeky.” There was a spark in Izzy’s eyes and Tracii smirked triumphantly.

“More like horny.” He swung himself into Izzy’s lap and held fast to Izzy’s neck with both hands. A sliver of moonlight fell over Tracii’s alluring dark eyes. The shadowed pattern of oak branches coated his bare chest. Tracii lifted his lips as he still hung tightly to Izzy’s neck. “Now, why don’t you take me to bed?”

Without waiting for a verbal response, Tracii’s mouth covered Izzy’s with forceful kisses as if claiming him. Izzy hesitated, lips rejecting the now foreign touch. Nimble fingers danced encouragingly up his side as Tracii pulled away with a loud smack.

“You’re tense. Do I need to start you off easy?” Tracii ran his tongue over his top lip and brought a hand down to touch himself. The guitarist moaned, arching into his own hand. Izzy’s eyes glazed over with lust. Seizing Tracii’s hands, he kissed him with an almost punishing force, desperate to regain control over at least one part of his spiraling life. Tracii jerked in surprise, but quickly gave himself over to Izzy’s demands.

Scooping Tracii up by his ass, Izzy tossed him onto Chris’s bed. The guitarist bounced a little and smiled as he watched Izzy crawl up the bed. Tracii arched his back, allowing the new hunter to draw away his jeans with a soft rush of fabric. Tracii enjoyed being the hunted as much as he liked hunting. Freshly nude, he reclined on the freshly washed sheets and held his arms out wide in invitation. Accepting it, Izzy’s tongue slipped over the other man’s pelvis, earning him a loud purr.

Hands slid through Izzy’s hair, urging him closer, but Izzy faded away. He leaned up to capture Tracii’s lips. Tracii groaned into his mouth, thrusting beneath the pale guitarist. A sharp gasp shot from his mouth when Izzy slipped a finger inside him.

“Oh fuck, please… Izzy… ” Tracii panted hard, withering on Izzy’s teasing fingers. He rose up and slammed his body back down on the bed as Izzy nipped and suckled his lower abdomen. It didn’t bother Tracii that Izzy couldn’t get it up. The kid was already seeing Heaven as he was teased to orgasm. The declarations of his desire for Izzy became his personal mantra as he came hard. Izzy made sure Tracii’s stomach was fully coated so he could have an excuse to lick and tease the sleek torso clean.

“For someone,” Tracii panted. He giggled and grabbed Izzy’s shoulders to stop the tickling touch of his tongue running along his abdomen. Izzy paused but returned to his ministrations when he felt Tracii’s touch weaken. “…who’s only half out of the closet, you’re fucking awesome at that.”

His thigh twitched as Izzy administered a full long sweep of his tongue ending at his nipple. Izzy sucked it gently between his lips as he wiped away the rest of the cum from Tracii’s ribs. Soft shudders vibrated through Tracii’s wiry frame as the air hit his freshly licked skin. The bed depressed beside him and he felt himself enveloped in two long arms. He lay in euphoria for a while, just enjoying Izzy being so near and lightly touching him. As his senses came back to him, he tasted a thin hit of tobacco on his tongue. He turned his head. “Hey.” He nibbled Izzy’s earlobe to get his attention. “You haven’t cum yet, darling.”

“I can’t cum,” Izzy said forlornly.

“Of course you can. You’re with me,” Tracii teased, and swung his legs over him to straddle his waist. He continued sucking his earlobe before drawing his lips down the guitarist’s neck. Graceful fingers danced over Izzy’s nipples, drawing circles with his fingertips that grew smaller and smaller with each pass. Izzy’s breath increased, growing ragged as he felt the heated desire coil in his lower belly. Tracii smiled down at him with taunting, sex hazed eyes.

“You feel so good, darling,” he cooed as he lowered his head.

“Wait,” Izzy said, clutching one of Tracii’s wrists by his hip. The guitarist’s brow knitted in confused frustration. “I want it softer.”

“What?”

“I want you to suck me softly. The same suction, but don’t press with your lips as much. Use your tongue for the pressure.”

Still baffled, Tracii nodded. He took Izzy into his mouth, letting his tongue curl around the other man’s length and making sure that his lips barely brushed the other’s cock. Sliding his mouth back up the shaft, he withdrew. Licking his lips, he locked eyes with Izzy.

“Like that?” He stuck out his chest like a proud peacock.

“Yeah.” Izzy nodded and grabbed Tracii by the neck. Shoving him down to meet his pelvis, he demanded, “Keep going.”

Tracii continued using his tongue on Izzy’s cock, listening and following Izzy’s instructions. Faster, slower, gentler, more tongue, before Tracii’s luscious mouth found the right rhythm. Tracii briefly wondered why Izzy was being more demanding tonight. He usually liked how Tracii sucked him off. But the thought quickly dissolved as he felt the spasms cause his hips to rock up into him. He was twitching and practically thrashing beneath the talented musician. Seeing Izzy this eradicate because of him, made Tracii’s ego skyrocket. He made sure his wild mane tickled the insides of Izzy’s thighs as he bobbed his head.

Izzy’s moans became more strained as the pleasure rose in him. His mind was miles away from the one pleasuring him. The name of the one Izzy thought of danced on his dry tongue, but he clamped his mouth shut not to say it. He did everything he could not to scream it out loud. A fowl copper taste filled his mouth. His mind traveled through time where his mouth was much looser.

…

It was a full moon night, where shadows came out to play and tease. That night the house party was wild. The parent’s liquor cabinets had no locks on them and the forbidden drink poured freely and mixed horribly with each other. The party-goers were hammered, some were missing their clothes, and all were missing their minds. Yet, no one cared.

Jeff was past drunk. He could barely stand, let alone find the floor. With a sigh, he fell into sinewy arms. The familiar scent of fresh air and brandy tickled his nostrils. Jeff smiled. He knew this person, but the name drifted from his tongue like a wisp of smoke. Soft lips came close to his ear, mumbling a temptress’s prayer, but he could only laugh as the words sounded like gibberish to him.

A fine boned hand guided him to a dark bedroom. Jeff grinned the whole time like a jester. The erotic pastel shadow sat him on the bed. Mounting his lap, it peeled away his button up shirt. Whether he tried to help take his shirt off or keep it on, he wasn’t sure. His mobility was impaired and he wasn’t even capable of sitting upright. Giving up the struggle, Jeff fell onto his back and stretched out like a sleepy cat.

The shadow’s long fingers slid smoothly down his torso to his jeans, rubbing him over his clothes. Jeff moaned, lazily scratching at his nipple. One of those magical hands pulled his away and replaced it with a wet mouth. The hard moist tongue swirled over the tiny nub, sending a shudder through Jeff’s inebriated frame. He moaned and giggled.

Lips slowly descended his torso, nipping and lapping at the faint vertical indentation of his torso. Jeff squirmed as the soft fire-like hair cascaded over his body. Nestling in the crook of his legs, the succulent mouth engulfed his length. The hard tongue curled around his member, pulling him in deeper. The lips were supple with barely any pressure as they ghosted over his throbbing flesh. Another magical hand kneaded the shallow of his hips. Another tickled the underside of his thighs, coaxing them further apart. Jeff arched his back, pressing his torso into the phantoms waiting and wanting lips.

“Yes!” He screamed as his orgasm tore through his body. Twisting in throes of satisfying torture, he fell to his back. The shadow placed a chaste kiss to his sweaty forehead and refastened his pants. Jeff felt his shirttails being laid over his pulsing hot body. Cracking open his eyes, he watched as his lovely shadow evaporate into the blue clouds of the Indiana night.

Jeff couldn’t move. His eyes felt heavy and pretty soon he was drifting off to sleep in post sex bliss. He’d never had such a wonderful night at one of these out of town parties. Most of the time, he just jacked off in the bathroom or pounded a needy guy into the mattress without cumming. This night made up for all those other late nights.

Later his mind would try to recall every touch from the shadow, but he never could figure out who it was. The sensations were vindictively sexual, and made Jeff pant at the sheer memory of them. He liked to pretend it was William, but it could have just as easily been a girl. He wasn’t even sure what William’s touch would feel like. Often, he tried to imagine what it would feel like but he never knew for sure.

Sometimes the memory of the touch seemed too soft to be his manic masculine friend. He liked to pretend though. Whoever it was stole one of his necklaces.

…

Izzy cried out as Tracii flicked his tongue and sent him into sexual oblivion. His eyes fluttered as the afterglow spread over his body, chest pulsating.

“Looks like I can get you off, darling,” Tracii teased, drawing circles around the sweaty guitarist’s belly. Izzy stilled the wandering hands, imprisoning the guitarist on top of him.

“Stay with me,” Izzy whispered into Tracii’s ear, cupping the back of his head.

The other guitarist smirked, finding the question to be silly. Of course he’d stay. Deciding not to tease anymore, he simply nodded. He pressed a quick peck to Izzy’s nose, but was quickly pulled down onto the bed and into the protective cocoon of Izzy’s body. Izzy cradled him, warming the slightly chilled guitarist. The night was dry, but the heat was beginning to break. A harsh nip hung in the air.

“Sometimes… I love you too much, darling,” Tracii hummed into Izzy’s flushed chest. Izzy sighed contently, drawing Tracii even closer. Staring at the ceiling, he petted Tracii’s head. Why did he have to think about William the entire time?

…

 

Highland and Selma rehearsal space. Five dollars an hour and no one was playing a single note. This didn’t bother Tracii who sat cross legged on the floor. According to him, he’d been dragged there to get Slash’s History book, or rather get his History book back from Slash. The reality was Tracii used that line, as an excuse to check out the guy Slash had been masturbating and chattering about for weeks.

Sitting against a wall, he perused Slash’s drawings in the textbook. He had loaned it to Slash to copy notes, but the guitarist had just drawn pictures of women with big boobs in scandalous positions. Tracii smiled at the drawings, turning the textbook on its side to get a different perspective and pretend he was looking at the centerfold of a _Playboy_. Tracii didn’t plan to turn it back in at the end of the school term. He was going to keep it, possibly add his own drawings of cocks for fun or make Slash draw them.

“You have some artistic talent here, Slash,” he mused as he turned the book back to its upright position. “But I think you need to broaden your subject matter. Galleries won’t take you seriously if you only draw women. You need to do flowers and landscapes,” he mumbled, “and guys,” he said in a louder voice, “and all that other artsy shit.”

“Why? There are so many tits in art museums. If I drew a landscape it’d be out of place. People love tits,” Slash said.

“It’ll make you a better artist,” Tracii replied.

“You’re just missing cock,” Steven said with a snort.

“Nah, mine keeps me occupied quite well. I don’t have a double D rack like this though. I could use one of these. They look like fun.” Tracii replied as he turned the page.

“I get more tits than you do, cock slut,” Steven said.

“Good for you,” Tracii replied. Steven seemed extra pissed today. Usually the two, despite fighting constantly weren’t this vicious this quick. They often tried to tone it down when they were both hanging around Slash, but something seemed to have crawled up Steven’s ass and Tracii didn’t have much patience or care today.

Slash barely noticed the two bickering more than usual. He paced the length of the window. Glancing out every two seconds to check in vain for their unnaturally late bass player. Steven tried to get him to play something or distract him with tricks he performed with his drumsticks, but nothing seemed to break him out of his shell. He even tried to enlist Tracii’s help every so often.

“He’s never late,” Slash mumbled with another look out the window.

“He’ll be here,” Steven replied reassuringly. “Maybe his car’s busted and he had to take the bus.”

“He seemed off in the last session,” Slash mused and started walking back to his corner. Tracii reached out a hand and pulled him down next to him.

           “Quit worrying, and draw me another picture,” Tracii said. Shoving the book into Slash’s lap, as he added, “Besides he has to come because I’m here. Everyone comes for me.”

“Slut,” Steven muttered.

“Love you too, jackass,” Tracii muttered as he watched Slash absently try to sketch something in the margins. It made Tracii smile when he thought of Slash using that same hand to eagerly fondle himself under the blankets as he dreamt about this sexy blonde. Slash was naturally sexy, even when he wasn’t trying to be. Tracii wondered if the kid even knew. _Probably not_ , he thought. He wondered what the blonde thought of Slash and what the two did when they greeted each other. _Maybe he’s going to propose or fuck him right here!_ Tracii was giddy at the thought.

“Guys, shut the fuck up,” Slash growled, but it came out as a plea. He set the textbook aside and began to pace again.

“Saul,” Tracii said with a sigh. “Just start playing your guitar. I never thought I’d have to tell you to do that, you fucking dumb ass.”

Any disgust of hearing his birth name faded when he saw the neck of his guitar in Tracii’s outstretched hand. He smiled and took the instrument. Bringing it close to his body, his hands ran over the wood, the strings, and the long neck as if reacquainting him with a lost partner. It made his soul shudder and his heart race. Wrapping himself up in the strap, he plugged in and started playing. Within minutes his fingers were pliant and loose. They scoured the strings, finding chords and notes he could meld together into something special and dark.

 _The guy should just walk around with a guitar all his life. He’d be so much better at communicating if he did,_ Tracii thought as he re-crossed his legs. _And if nothing else he can just make people hard by playing notes. That would be funny! God damn it, Slash! That riff’s fucking hot!_

“Hey Duff!” Steven cheered loudly. He jumped over his drum kit and sprinted across the room. Throwing his arms around the taller blonde, he hugged his waist. Duff instantly hugged him back. “We were worried about you. Well, really Slash was worrying. You’re never late.”

“I’m sorry,” Duff said looking at Slash hovering in the corner uncertainly. He clutched his guitar whose voice was slowly fading into the pregnant air. He murmured something that sounded like ‘don’t worry about it’, but the soft brush of his fingers on the guitar drowned out the sound.

“Don’t mind Slash,” Tracii called from the sidelines. “Sometimes he forgets his mouth actually functions for other things like making words and can’t introduce people properly.”

Duff laughed and smiled at Slash who was turning red. Tracii was finding these two adorably sexy. Any thoughts of fucking the delectable bassist were fading in lieu of watching these two bone each other. He had a feeling that Slash wanted too, but was worried he’d be rejected by Duff. He wondered if Slash didn’t want to fuck one of his band mates because he risked fucking up the band. This was one reason Izzy and Tracii were never in the same band together at the same time. Tracii also entertained the idea of convincing Duff to fuck Izzy while he watched. That idea always made him hard.

 _Oh shit, that’s drool,_ Tracii thought, licking the large drop of saliva off his chin. He wiped his mouth with his hand. Duff looked confused, but not put off by Tracii’s obvious sexual heat. _I wonder if Slash knows if he’s even that way or not. Hmmm._

“Yeah,” Steven said with a jerk of his thumb. “This is Tracii. Izzy’s little bitch.”

“Oh, uh, hi,” Duff said, “I’m Duff McKagan.”

“Tracii Guns. Nice to meet you, Duff,” he replied with a warm handshake. “You’ve met straight Steven, but he harbors a hard on for Izzy. Too bad for him though. He’s mine and I’m his.”

“Izzy? Izzy from Indiana? That punk guitarist?”

“I do not!” Steven yelled, but his cheeks were starting to flush.

“Sure you don’t, kid,” Tracii teased then turned back to Duff. “That’s the one! He’s mine, so don’t go getting any thoughts about stealing him away blondie unless I’m okay with it.” Tracii winked. Duff smiled. _Oh yes! He definitely goes that way._ He glanced at Slash hoping he caught the look in that smile. The guitarist had become too engrossed in his guitar to see it. _God damn it, kid!_

“Finally you’re fessing up to the fact that you’re _little,_ ” Steven taunted as he rounded his drum kit to find safety. “Bout time you did.”

“Just ask Izzy what I got. He’ll tell you.”

“I didn’t know Izzy was with you,” Duff said to Tracii.

“Why would you say that?” Tracii asked quietly. His cock-assuredness faltered.

“I’ve heard rumors he moved out of your house and he’s living with another guy. I didn’t think you two were serious anymore.”

“Oh,” Tracii brightened instantly. “That’s just Chris. He’s a buddy of mine and only goes down one-way streets, so yeah. Izzy’s still mine. He told me you’re helping him with finding a new job, so thank you for helping him.”

A deep thunder roared, causing the pair to look over at an irate Steven. He’d succeeded in breaking Slash out of his trance as well.

“Can we please play something? I’m sick of listening to your fucking sex life! We came here to play and I want to pound these drums until they break!” Steven shouted.

“More like he wants Izzy to pound him with his cock,” Tracii mumbled softly but loud enough for Duff to hear. The blonde didn’t continue the conversation, only shifted on his feet.

          “Uh, yeah. I wanted to talk to you guys about that,” Duff said, looking away. “I don’t want to play with you anymore, but I’d like to stay friends.”

 _Friends,_ Slash thought bitterly. He ground his teeth as he flicked his hair into his face. His mass of curls only barely covered his eyebrows. He wished they covered more. His body felt too hot and not in the good way. The solo he’d been playing had gotten him worked up, because he was bringing his fantasy of bending Duff over and fucking him to life through his song. He could tell it affected Tracii from the way he kept the book in front of his crotch though the guitarist was a little more careless than Slash was. In his trance, Slash had heard fragments of fucking, and Izzy, and Tracii, but now Duff was talking about being friends. _Did Tracii scare him off? Didn’t Steven warn me Tracii would do this? Is Tracii trying to steal him for himself?_

“Well, yeah. Of course we can still be friends!” Steven replied amicably.

Duff smiled and walked over to Slash. The guitarist froze, but didn’t shrink back. He didn’t trust himself to talk or look at anyone. Duff still looked. It made Slash uneasy. He wasn’t sure what to say or if Duff should speak first. The proclamation of his love was on the tip of Slash’s lips, but he restrained himself as the haunting word _friend_ ran across his mind. So many conflicting and angry thoughts were running through his head. He couldn’t sift through any of them to find something meaningful to say.

“Slash?” Duff’s voice broke through his rattled brain. “We can still be friends, right? I don’t want to lose you.”

“Yeah, sure, man.” Slash tried to smile, hoping Duff wouldn’t press him for more. He felt awkward and naked under Duff’s gaze. His fingers trembled until they touched the strings. He played, but he tried not too, because the sound coming out was much to sad and melancholy for his hard rock image. Already his guitar was weeping, but Slash turned his back so his body could deafen the sound.

“Um, okay. Well, look guys, I gotta split. I need to go find a second job, but I’ll call you guys sometime and we can hang out,” Duff said without getting any vocal response from Slash. Though he addressed both musicians, his eyes remained locked on Slash’s back. His shoulders were tense and stiff. He hesitated, but in the end Duff left without another word to Slash, Steven, or Tracii.

The second the door shut, Steven rounded on Tracii. He accused, “this is all your fucking fault.”

“How is it my fault?” Tracii asked completely lost.

“If you hadn’t shown up and drooled all over Duff he wouldn’t have split and we’d still be Road Crew.”

“I didn’t say a fucking word to him!” Tracii yelled back.

“You said plenty! Your jaw never left the floor since he walked in here. You made him uncomfortable and he split. He probably thought you were the new singer and would rather die than be caught dead with you in this band.”

“Brainless, he didn’t even have his instrument with him, so how could I have caused all of that? You’re the one who constantly brought up Izzy and me. Just admit it, Stevie. You have a crush on my boyfriend and you want him to fuck you up the ass, but you can’t have him and that pisses you off. Well get used to it, because Izzy’s with me and you’re not going to get him.”

“I don’t fucking want Izzy!”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!” Slash yelled as his hand slipped and he hit a note that screeched like a dying cat from his guitar. He grabbed the case and shoved it in before leaving the same way Duff had left. He didn’t care if those two had to ride together. He was fighting back tears that he cursed himself for. He shouldn’t be crying like a fucking baby over some silly crush, but this was hurting him somehow. As he turned the ignition, he sniffled and blew his nose on a piece of paper.

 _I’m seriously fucked_ , he thought as he peeled out of the parking lot.

…

 

The phone rang as Izzy relieved himself in the bathroom. Rolling his eyes, he picked it up just to end the obnoxious ringing.

“Yeah.”

“Is she there?”

“Who?”

“Are you still with that chick you took with you? Is this her number? Are you staying at her place, Jeff?”

Izzy closed his eyes. His birth name, from that voice, it was like honey being poured over every inch of his skin.

“No. She got a corporate job downtown as a paralegal. She wants to be a lawyer.”

“Can I come over?”

“Yeah. You still got the address?”

“You engraved it on my arm. I think it’s fucking permanent.”

“You always did want a tattoo, man.”

“Shut up.” There was a faint laugh on the other end.

Izzy knew Axl was smiling. That made him smile.

“I’ll be there.”

“Cool.” He hung up.

Izzy smiled sadly, returning the phone to the hook. He wanted William to come over, wanted to see him smile and laugh, and act like old times. Now Axl was coming over. He wasn’t sure exactly what Axl wanted. Not that he necessarily knew what William wanted, or what Izzy wanted from him, but William was more familiar. Izzy, or rather Jeff knew how to respond to him and his needs.

Trudging back into the bedroom he saw the corner where he failed at hiding his paraphernalia. Izzy walked over to shove hi rig under the bed. All the while he thought of seeing William again. _William will hate me more than he already does. Especially when he realizes I was the man in the black trench coat._

Izzy turned his attention to Tracii who lay face down on the bed with his ass in the air. He bit back a laugh at the weird position the younger was in. Izzy hadn’t even fucked him so how Tracii had contorted himself to that position and be able to sleep comfortably was baffling to Izzy. Gingerly, he pulled the thin blanket over Tracii’s naked form. He had never told Tracii he loved him tonight. He wondered if he ever had. Yet, somehow the kid had wormed his way into the deep confines of his tangled dark heart.

The first time they slept together after becoming a monogamous couple, something that Tracii insisted before claiming Izzy as his boyfriend, was amazing, practically earth shattering to Izzy. Tracii was what he had always wanted, eager, willing, and not giving a fuck about what anyone said or thought. Everything William hadn’t been.

 _How do you bring a topic like that up?_ _Hey, man, I really like you and want to fuck you. Do you like me and want to fuck me, too?_

Izzy’s head shot up when he heard the rustling of sheets and a meek whimper from Tracii. The lean guitarist pawed at Izzy’s side of the mattress, slowly opening his eyes. Keeping his cigarette, Izzy eased himself deeper into the vacant spot that burned his skin with the dreary cold.

“Where did you go?” Tracii asked, burying his face in Izzy’s lap. His ass lowered only slightly. Izzy stroked his naked shoulder, trying to lull the kid back to sleep.

“Had to piss, babe. Close your eyes and go back to sleep.” Izzy shushed him and kissed the top of Tracii’s head. Tracii snuggled closer to him and did just that. He loved times like these with Tracii. Izzy slowly fell asleep feeling happy and loved. He liked those feelings. He liked that Tracii could make him feel this way. He liked the escape from his life and his problems. He never wanted it to end.

…

Izzy lay in the prickly summer grass, wishing for a breeze. He’d even be happy with a raging thunderstorm, but Midwest summers were unfair and unpredictable like that. The sun’s harsh rays beat down on his skin, roasting him alive. He grumbled yet continued to lie in the heat, accepting the discomfort.

“Jeff!” A familiar voice, that had just begun to drop, called out to him. Jeff turned his head to see William running up the hill.

“What’s up, man?” Jeff moved to sit up, resting his arms on his exposed knees. They stung slightly from the forming sunburn.

“I gotta show you something,” William said, smiling excitedly. Jeff waited patiently. “Close your eyes.”

Jeff frowned.

“What?” William asked perplexed as he stopped rummaging through his paper bag.

“Usually when people say they have a surprise, and you need to close your eyes, it’s not a good thing,” Jeff said, giving him a wary sideways grin.

“Just shut up and do it, smart ass,” William retorted.

Jeff rolled his eyes, but closed them. Paper crinkled. Then silence. He squinted hard to keep his eyes shut.

“Okay, open,” William announced.

Jeff opened his eyes, and they quickly flew wide. His jaw dropped as he was rendered speechless.

“Well?” William pressed.

Jeff burst out laughing and rolled in the grass. William stood, frowning at his friend, dressed in a traditional Irish kilt.

“Man, where the hell did you get that… that… that skirt?” Jeff wiped his eyes, but giggles continued to splutter from his mouth. William kicked him to try to shut him up, but only succeeded in renewing Jeff’s laughter as he saw the kilt swing upward from the sudden gust of wind just like Marilyn Monroe.

“Nicked it from the theater department,” William said, crossing his arms, “and it’s not a skirt! It’s a kilt! I think it’s cool. Quit being a dick!”

“Yeah, if you’re a fucking leprechaun with a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow!”

William launched himself onto the cackling Jeff, wrestling with him like he would his stepbrother. Jeff blocked the attacks and tried to get control of William’s fists. Finally succeeding, Jeff rolled himself on top of William, both panting and sweating in the blinding afternoon sun baring down on them. It illuminated their acts for the fields of grain to judge.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Jeff exhaled, though his lips curled into a smile. His chest heaved against William’s. “It’s cool.” He slowly peeled his sweat-drenched body off of William’s, looking down at the kilt now tousled around William’s slender legs. “Real cool.” That dangerous thought came into his head as he inspected the pale color of his tender flesh. Jeff seemed to be having it a lot lately, especially when he was around William.

The red head went to rise, but Jeff clasped his ankle. Slight apprehension peppered the spring emerald eyes as he froze in place. Hooded topaz brown eyes locked onto them adoringly. William’s shoulder dropped as he smiled at those eyes and the look in them. Jeff slowly crawled forward, never relinquishing his grip. On instinct, William moved backwards. Jeff was close and he leaned in closer. William leaned a little further back, but lowered his body so he was beneath Jeff. He craned his head to see everything in Jeff’s eyes. Jeff lifted his head, mirroring William’s movements. Gazing deeper, Jeff saw a flame beginning to light in them. William felt paralyzed as the heat of their bodies connected, cutting through the thick humidity of the world between them.

A sudden tug knocked William down onto his back. He seized his captor’s hand, but didn’t move it away. His cherry lips trembled and fell open. Jeff leaned up closer to William’s face, his lips pursed, but William turned his cheek to avoid the desired exploration. A soft whimper rumbled in his throat in desire. Both needed, both wanted something, but neither knew what or what to do.

The hand on his ankle began to move. William watched it slowly crawl up, tickling his skin. Jeff pressed a feather’s touch of his lips to William’s calf as he held his leg still. He slowly moved higher up the supple flesh, increasing the pressure and heat of his kisses, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

When Jeff’s mouth reached William’s knee, his tongue slid underneath the back of it to lap at the sensitive untouched skin. He sucked a bit of the nubile flesh into his mouth, as he pulled back. William bit his fist, trying to stifle a groan. Hearing the whimper, Jeff cocked his head to the side and peered up at the red head. William shook slightly as he saw the lustful eyes devouring him from behind mangy brown hair.

Seeing no resistance, Jeff continued to kiss along William’s inner thigh as his fingernails dragged themselves up the back of his thigh. William shifted as he felt the soft fabric of the kilt riser higher up his slender legs. He gave a startled yelp when Jeff got closer to the spot where his leg met his ass.

“Jeff, I…” He clutched his friend’s hand. “I don’t…” Jeff reached out and touched Axl’s quivering lips with his fingertips. They stilled for him and Jeff smiled. William all but melted when he saw that smile. Jeff’s comforting eyes willed the red head to trust him. Jeff took the silver necklace and pushed it aside. The rudimentary charm fell over William’s back dangling from his neck. Out of sight, out of mind, for both of them. The red head seemed surer and more open of his movements now. His lips parted again and caught Izzy’s teasing thumb. He opened his mouth wider to catch more fingers, nipping them playfully. He flicked his tongue out just enough to tickle the underside of Jeff’s palm.

Jeff moaned from the soft caress of William’s tongue and began to move his other hand again. He was drawing closer to the part of his friend he desired to touch more than any other place on his body. William hummed around his digits as Jeff’s hand stroked him through his underwear. Jeff rose slightly onto his knees and gently pushed him onto his back, urging his leg up higher. Curiously the red head watched Jeff’s mouth descend between his legs.

“No, Jeff, no. Wait. Stop,” William gasped, shaking his head. Jeff froze, fighting the urge to take him. William’s eyes suddenly took on a steely edge. “Get off me now.” The snarl was followed by a swift kick to his face. Jeff fell back with a shocked and painful cry, holding his face in his hands. William rose onto his shaky legs. He threw Jeff’s helping hands aside as he nearly fell forward. Stripping himself of the kilt, he quickly hitched up his jeans. He hovered uncertainly over the brunette who watched him from between his fingers

He turned quickly as tears pricked the corners of William’s eyes. He saw blood pouring over the cracks in Jeff’s palms. He shook. His mind was a vortex and he knew he couldn’t get out of this spiral. This time Jeff couldn’t help him. He threaded his fingers in the silver chain drawing it back to the front of his chest and clutched it in his hand. The sharp unfinished edges drew his blood. Without a word, he left Jeff on the hill.

…

A thick curtain of smoke draped over Izzy’s head. Occasionally, he’d puff a fresh stream of pot into the mist disturbing the heavy shade of smoke. It was his only amusement in his comatose state of living. His entire body felt heavy and listless instead of the usual happy fun-loving state the herb brought him. He’d taken too much, but it was all the result of having to wait too long. He’d been stupidly waiting for Axl to come back for about a week. The red head had told him he’d come. He remembered his rain soaked voice coming through the phone. He imagined Axl soaking wet and laying on a bed, waiting for _him_ , not the other way around. His legs would be parted and his arms would be open.

Even that lovely fantasy couldn’t rouse Izzy from his prison-like room. The only thing that could draw him from the bedroom was if Chris wanted to practice, but since the kid had school he didn’t bother Izzy that much lately. Tracii would come over every day, but instead of pulling him out of his pot den, the guitarist would curl up around Izzy and steal his current toke. He’d smoke the dope happily and pet Izzy constantly all while talking non-stop of this and that. Sometimes it made sense and sometimes it confused Izzy. Other times, Izzy just watched Tracii’s beautiful lips move and think lewd thoughts about what they were capable of. Tracii rarely bothered trying to get Izzy out of the room, though he did request a couple sexual favors. Chris usually sat in the backyard and thanked god his parents weren’t home for those moments. As crude as Tracii could be, he did have respect for people and their ears.

For one long week, Izzy waited for Axl. Now having finally resolved to not bother with Axl anymore, he cursed himself. His body became firmer as he floated down from the lofty clouds. He hadn’t even been to his new job that Duff had gotten him more than twice. He didn’t remember doing much except staring out of the warehouse’s windows wistfully thinking about whether or not Axl would show up at Chris’s place while he was away. He wondered if the red head would wait or leave.

Once Izzy was asked to do deliveries but instead of completing the route, he just drove up and down the Strip, searching for Axl. He’d even go to Chris’s house to check for signs of Axl being there. He knew them well, but each time he came up empty. In the end, he resolved to confine himself to the bedroom. He was determined to be at the house when Axl showed up. There was no way he would let the red head out of his sight again.

Now, he rationalized that Axl wasn’t coming back to him. He’d caught a greyhound to Indiana and hadn’t been back. No one had heard from him. Izzy had even phoned his mother’s house to see if she knew. She didn’t which was odd since she always doted on Axl like another son. Izzy knew if Axl remained in Lafayette he would wilt there under the pressure and turmoil of that wicked little town instead of living in the paradise city he’d found here in L.A. with him. He also knew Axl would have to learn that. There was only so much Izzy could show him to curb his thoughts and lead him to his true home. Axl needed to experience things to realize where he truly belonged. Izzy only wished Axl would find the confidence to do so and soon. There was so much talent in that tight body, he just needed to realize it and share his creativity with the world.

…

 

“Mikey. Mikey,” the man said urgently to Duff. “You’re friend. He no good. He on drugs. I can’t have him working here. I’m sorry, but Mikey, he no good.”

“I can talk to him,” Duff offered.

“No, no, Mikey. Very sorry, but I can’t keep him. He not good boy like you!”

Duff nodded and made his way over to Izzy who sat in a mild daze. A frown crossed his face as Izzy’s noted the other’s posture. It wasn’t the relaxed slouch of a pothead, nor the blissed out glassy-eyed look of an addict. In actuality Izzy had never looked more sober than he did in that moment to Duff.

“Hey, man. I got some bad news, but…”

“I heard,” Izzy cut in with an off-handed tone. “Your boss is pretty loud.”

“I’m sorry, man. I stuck up for you.”

“I heard. It’s okay.”

Duff cocked his head. “You don’t seem very upset.”

“Why should I be?” Izzy asked bewildered. He stood up, straightening his jean jacket and turned to face Duff. “I told you already. I’ve got plenty of ways of making money. Don’t worry about me, baby. Now go and make your baby _yours_.”

Duff caught Izzy’s arm before he could turn around. “What do you mean by that?”

“Tracii told me about you and Slash. Give the kid a call. You both go that way, so make the first move. You’re both being a couple of shy pricks. You just need to arrange a meeting of your pricks and then you’ll be golden.”

With a quick pivot, Izzy left Duff standing in the middle of the parking lot looking more confused than before. Before Duff’s mind could wander too much, Izzy turned back around.

His hands were in his jacket pockets as he yelled, “Hey! Don’t be a stranger, got that?”

Duff opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Izzy took a couple steps back to Duff, and repeated louder and with more urgency, “You got that?”

“Yeah! Yeah! I won’t be a stranger,” Duff said. A wide smile bloomed on his lips. He had a feeling he knew what Izzy was driving at. “And you better not either you elusive fucker! Go take care of your own!”

Izzy waved at him over his shoulder as he continued on his way. When he turned away he gnashed his cigarette as he thought, _shut up,_ _you son of a bitch. He is my Mr. Brownstone, not the Mary Jane you settled for._

…       


	9. So Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duff grinned, pushing away the curls baring Slash’s adorable face again. “Sorry our first kiss had to be like this.”

Duff had just barely fallen asleep when he heard a knock on his apartment door. He groaned since the sunlight hadn’t started leaking through the windows just yet. He heard the knock again and it caused him to frown. It was soft almost sounding hesitant. It couldn’t be the cops or some asshole wanting to bug him at this time of day. Still in his underwear, he rolled out of bed and made his way to the door.

“A-Axl?” He spluttered as he saw a shivering red head standing in front of him. Axl looked up, appearing lost and nervous. Duff opened the door wider. “Are you okay?”

“I’m…” Axl’s voice trailed off. Gripping his arms tighter, he looked away.

“Come in,” Duff said. Stepping aside, he held out an arm to welcome the other into his apartment. Axl’s large eyes found Duff again. Duff tried to show him the warmth and happiness he felt the other needed. Axl slowly walked into the apartment. To Duff’s relief he didn’t jump when he closed the door.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Axl said.

Duff hid his frown when he noticed Axl bit his lip, and said, “You’re always welcome here, brother.”

Axl perked his head up and smiled at the lovable blonde. “Thanks, Duff.”

“Don’t mention it,” Duff said, covering his yawn with his hand. “You want to sleep or want to talk?”

“You can sleep. I don’t want to keep you awake.”

“I don’t mind. I’m between jobs so I have nowhere to be.” Duff pulled a bottle of vodka out of the fridge and sat down against the wall. “So how’s it been going for you?”

“I went home.”

“Yeah? Is it any different?”

“Not really. It’s pretty much the same. I think I’m different. I’m not really sure,” Axl said, gladly accepting the offered vodka.

“I haven’t been home yet. A buddy of mine might visit soon.” He quickly added, “there’s still plenty of room for you here. At least until my money runs out which might be in a week or so.”

“I’ll get a job to help.”

“Cool,” Duff said.

Axl mewled then, causing Duff to look down. He found his fingers stroking Axl’s scalp, playing among the thin strands of red gold. Axl was rubbing his cheek against Duff’s leg like a cat. Duff was taken aback that he was touching Axl so intimately and the other was okay with it and even reciprocating the affection. The touching closeness between them felt so very right. Duff smiled and let his hand slide down to massage his shoulder. Axl stretched out his back so Duff could work out every knotted muscle. A steady stream of appreciative sounds came from Axl’s lips and his arms tightened around Duff’s naked thigh. He buried his face in the crook of Duff’s waist. The smell of vodka and the fine hair on Duff’s body tickled his nose.

Above him, he could hear Duff chuckle and continue to stroke and pet Axl’s hair and body. The humor in Duff’s voice didn’t make Axl anxious, only smile. Axl liked the way Duff touched him. It made him feel safe and warm. He remembered the feeling of never wanting to leave Duff’s side before he went back home. That’s why he came back to Duff’s apartment instead of to the place etched in his arm. It felt good to be protected and loved by someone who didn’t know the sins of his past.

Outside the wind rustled the tree branches as the shoddy streetlights flickered. A particular gust blew a shingle off a roof. Axl jumped. Duff caught him by the shoulders and eased him back down, whispering gentle words of comfort and encouragement. Axl slowly returned to his spot in Duff’s lap. Duff started to sing a punk song he knew as a lullaby to Axl. It seemed to work as the smaller boy unwound from his anxiety faster than he had the first time.

Despite his eyelids flicking shut, Duff continued to sing and rub Axl’s body. He liked that Axl was curling deeper into his embrace. He could feel the tension leaving his body and that lit up Duff’s soul. He enjoyed being able to touch Axl and help him escape his tangled mind. The feeling of Axl’s breath normalizing was Duff’s lullaby and before either of them knew it they were both sound asleep.

…

“Oi! Love! Wait up!” Phil charged after Steve who was practically running to the exit. He caught Steve’s arm, only to have his hand thrown off.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Steve shouted before pivoting to continue his escape.

Phil wasn’t giving up. Lunging forward, he wrapped his arms around Steve’s chest, effectively pinning him to his body. Phil walked Steve backwards into the club. Steve fought back twisting and kicking at Phil. Not being able to fight the squirming drummer anymore he stopped and buried his head in Steve’s neck and asked, “What is it? What happened, love?”

“Don’t you fucking ‘love’ me,” Steve replied. His teeth grinding together as he struggled against Phil’s strong hold. “You know damn well what this is about. What you did.”

“What I did?” Phil asked bewildered. His grip lessened and Steve took his opportunity. He threw his arms out to the side and broke Phil’s hold. Instead of running, he turned and grabbed Phil’s shoulder to pull him close.

“You were fucking drooling over that fucking stoner guitarist again. No.” His grip tightened as he gave Phil a hard shake. “Don’t even bother trying to deny it. I see the way you looked at him. It’s the same goddamn look you give me when you want me to suck your cock. It’s not a one-time deal. You want him as many times as you can get. Don’t you? Of fucking course you do. You want him any way you can get him.”

Phil smiled in a way that would have been almost been considered pretty if not for that lecherous veneer. “Is that what all this is about?”

“What?” Steve sputtered, not knowing why Phil responded in such a sexual and ambiguous way. The vocalist’s arms were laced around Steve’s neck. Somehow his firm body was pressed flushed against Phil’s. It felt nice and hot having Phil so near. Steve’s body was on fire and manipulating his mind into thinking everything was okay. His thoughts were gathering wool as he inhaled the bourbon-laced breath of his lover.

“Love,” Phil cooed while bringing a hand up to cup Steve’s chiseled jaw. “I wasn’t going to leave you. You mean so much to me.” He gently kissed the silken flesh. “And I know you want that guitarist as much as I do. I was going to share him with you.” Another kiss. “Just think about it. A three-way with that firecracker?” He moaned and pushed his crotch into Steve. “How hot would that be? We could do whatever we wanted to him.”

“But I… I’m not. Well, I am, but I… No. I don’t want to fuck him!”

“Of course you do. This whole fucking club wants to fuck him. That’s what it means to be a rock star. Everyone wants you and your cock. It’s up to you to decide who gets it and how.” As Phil spoke he continued to press soft kisses to Steve’s cheek. “Come on, love. You’ll like it. You’ll like him. I’ll make sure he pleases you. It’s okay he’s younger than both of us. It makes it even hotter.”

“So now you want to trade me in for a younger model, is that it?” Steve questioned finally snapping out of Phil’s spell. He pushed the vocalist away and yelled, “Well fine! You want that? We’re done. Don’t ever come sniffing around me again, because I’m not going to even spare you a pity fuck.”

This time Steve bolted Phil didn’t follow. Steve didn’t head for the exit. Instead, he headed to the bathroom. The doorknob wouldn’t turn. Figuring that the door was just stuck, he threw his shoulder against it and fell in to find another wannabe rock star taking a piss. The tall guy turned, looking completely unfazed and asked, “Gotta piss?”

Any other time the situation would have made Steve laugh, but at the moment, he was pissed and horny because of Phil. He closed the door and leaned against it to mute the sound of him sliding the latch a little more securely as he asked, “Kelly, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You suck cock, right?”

“Well, uh, who doesn’t?” Kelly asked. His tone was borderline defensive and teasing.

In two swift strides, Steve was on him. His hand instantly tangled in Kelly’s long hair and he used it to coax him closer. “Want to suck mine?” he breathed against Kelly’s face before smashing their lips together.

Steve didn’t let Kelly speak, only continued to feed the bassist sloppy kisses in an effort to silence any protest of his proposed question. Steve didn’t want to hear any words that could lead to another rejection right now. All he wanted was a pliant body beneath his to ravish as he chose. It pleased him that Kelly seemed to be footing the bill here nicely. Despite swaying awkwardly in Steve’s embrace, Kelly returned the kiss. Steve held Kelly’s face with both palms, fingers running over the high cheekbones and soft skin. He growled when Kelly’s fingers scratched and pawed at his pectoral muscles. He could feel a feline-like smile spread over Kelly’s mouth.

 _This guy’s a fucking cock_ tease, Steve thought. When a tiny giggle escaped the bassist’s mouth, Steve gave him a sharp swat on his ass. Kelly’s smile vanished only to be replaced by a heady moan. Steve could feel Kelly’s body grow heavier with desire and desperate with lust.

 _Good, kid. Be fucking easy for me,_ Steve thought and slid one hand down Kelly’s side. The bassist shivered under the soft tickle only to feel another sharp sting on his ass. Kelly pitched forward into Steve’s waiting strong arms. He grabbed a handful of the bassist’s stinging ass and squeezed hard. Kelly mewed and gyrated against Steve’s body, panting and pleading for more.

“You’re this sensitive even through jeans?” Steve taunted as he gave another hard squeeze to Kelly’s tender ass. The bassist wrapped one of his long legs around Steve’s waist and arched into the painful touch that was electrifying his groin. Steve continued to spank him and Kelly continued to writhe against the other, swiveling his hips and begging for more.

Finally he moved his lips to Steve’s neck and purred, “Get your pants off and show me how you can really handle my ass.”

Steve ripped himself away, nearly knocking Kelly to the ground. He caught the kid and shoved him into the wall. Slamming his arms high above his head, Steve snarled, “Keep your hands up. You let them fall and I’ll leave you hanging.”

Kelly fought desperately to keep them up as ragged nails ran down his sleek torso. His knees buckled and his mouth opened as he panted heavily. Steve hooked his fingers in the waistband of Kelly’s jeans and proceeded to tease the hard exposed cock with his lips and tongue. All the while he watched that beautiful porn star mouth contort in the most delicious shapes as he played him. Steve was horny, but he wanted Kelly to suffer a little bit before he rewarded him with his cock.

Kelly was lost. Whimpering, practically weeping, from the teasing touches when he was forcefully spun around and slammed face first into the wall. Steve pinned Kelly’s arms high above his head as if he were in a police lineup to be frisked, but his other hand curled around his hips. Kelly whined as his lower body was pulled back and his legs were spread. He wouldn’t be able to get off on the wall now. Yet, his pleas didn’t go unnoticed for long. The sudden pleasure of Steve’s cock ramming into his tight hole and the exquisite pain of the firm spankings eradicated any desperation. Steve never touched Kelly’s cock, but still brought him to body-tearing climax through his perfected ass play.

Having come, he let Kelly slide slowly down the wall into a damp heap of human flesh and liquid. His body hummed from the aftershock and his sore ass stung as it hit the cold concrete. On some plane of existence he could feel Steve touching him. The sensation was forcing him back into his body. Yet, he didn’t want to come back down just yet. He wanted to enjoy this rare high-octane orgasm that arrived from Steve worshiping his ass.

Kelly scrunched his face slightly as Steve turned it this way and that. Finally, he stopped and just held Kelly’s firm jaw in his hand. “If you ever feel like some more fun and are into bondage call me and I’ll take you to Hot Leather. I’d love to see you hanging from the ceiling and panting my name as I spank your ass.” He could feel Steve rubbing his hipbone and then the soft flick of a sharpie scribbling over it.

“Sweet dreams, Kell.” With a final kiss, Steve released him and disappeared.

Debauched, satiated, and still frustrated, Kelly lay on the floor. He could barely move, except to slowly turn his gaze to the door. Eyes bore into it as if they could bring Steve back. It was one of the rare times that Kelly wanted more from one person. He always wanted more from Greg and Brent, but they never left him for long and he knew they’d always find him. Part of him wished they would open the door, and wash and pet his sex-flushed body. Maybe even cart him home and share their groupies with him. Then again, he could really go for a good licking from Brent or a hard fuck from Greg’s naked steel.

“Whoa, shit. Sorry!”

Kelly knew that voice. He croaked, “Tracii…” The small guitarist hesitated but turned back to look. “Can you help me?”

“Are you hurt?” Tracii asked, concern flooding his eyes as he backtracked into the bathroom.

“No, just help. I need help.”

Grabbing some paper towels, he started wiping down Kelly’s body. He quickly doubled and tripled the layers of towels that he was using to perform his act of civility. Tossing them in the trash, he knelt beside the bassist again to work on his jeans. Carefully he eased the denim up and over Kelly’s slim hips cautious not to touch him.

“Thanks,” Kelly slurred.

“Don’t mention it,” Tracii said, evading Kelly’s sexual questing hand as he worked the stubborn denim over Kelly’s redden ass. His eyes widened at the marks and he checked briefly for abrasions or trails of blood. Finding nothing, he relaxed his shoulders and finished the job, all while making sure Kelly didn’t try to thank him with sexual favors this time. “So who was the lucky guy, or girl, to finally fuck what’s left of your brains out and got you this out of control?”

“Out of control?”

“Yeah. We could all hear you outside. It didn’t help some short guy was pounding on the door begging to be let in and talk. He’s so green. He should have said ‘fuck’. Everyone opens doors when you want to fuck. And who would say no to a three-way?”

A sly smile spread on Kelly’s lips as he whispered, “Steve Riley.”

“The drummer from WASP?” Tracii practically shrieked.

Kelly grimaced. “Yeah. That’s the one.” His face softened as he gave a low whistle. “He fucked me like an animal.” Kelly’s head lulled back. “Fuck man, I need a smoke.”

“Well you can smoke at my place. Come on. Get your sore ass up!” Tracii hopped to his feet and extended his hand. “What? I can’t just leave you here? What happens when the next horny thing comes in and sees you laying all spread out and wanton, now can I? So, up, up, up and away!”

As he accepted Tracii’s hand, Kelly laughed. The smaller man was able to drag him to his feet and out the door. Kelly vaguely wondered if he could fuck Tracii. He’d heard rumors that the kid was a sex god and was even good enough for that picky Izzy. Then he wondered if Izzy would collect his nuts if he tried it. He was quite attached to them and didn’t like that idea very much. _I wonder if Izzy would like a three-way. Maybe I won’t try to make a move on Tracii, but go after…_ _Speaking of the devil…_

Tracii led him to Izzy who was leaning up against a car. His chauffeurs cap was pulled down low over his eyes. A black glittery scarf encircled his neck that peaked out above his long leopard print coat. He smoked a cigarette like a fifties mobster and his eyes darkened when he saw Tracii approaching with Kelly draped over his shoulders. “Tracii, I told you no pets.”

“He’s not a pet. I had to help him. Someone fucked him senseless and left him in the bathroom. I cleaned him up and told him he could crash with us.”

Izzy narrowed his eyes at Kelly, and asked, “Aren’t you Faster’s bitch?”

 _Fucking serioulys?_ Kelly thought, but said, “That’s the band I’m in.”

“Hey! No! Bad, Izzy! Don’t be thinking we can do a three-way with him. He’s had enough sex for one night.”

_What are you talking about shorty? It’s never enough and I’d gladly take a piece of you and Stradlin! God damn it!_

“Why not? It’s not like we haven’t done it before,” Izzy replied and lifted his cigarette to his lips.

_Fucking A right, man! Ouch that hurts._

“Because no!” Tracii persisted.

“Look guys,” Kelly cut in. “I’d actually love a three-way, but my ass is rather sore so I’m going to take a rain check. I’m going to split so I don’t take up any more of your time. Okay?”

“We can drop you somewhere! Where do you want to go?”

“I’m not a chauffeur for your strays, Trace.”

“Well then you wore the wrong hat.”

“It’s cool, guys. No sweat.”

“We could at least take him with us to the party. Faster’s going to be there.”

“Why do you guys feel the need to take me somewhere?”

“You asked for my help, so I’m helping,” Tracii responded matter-of-factually. “At least I thought you wanted my help, but fine we can leave you.”

Tracii untangled himself from Kelly and the bassist nearly fell to the ground. He caught him just before he did. Izzy pushed himself off the car and took Kelly’s other arm. “Do you want us to return you to your masters?”

“Fuck you,” Kelly said.

He loved the pair, but it was starting to get ridiculous with how much he was being thought of as just a piece of property in his own band. Brent and Greg didn’t control him. They never really treated him that way either. _Did they?_ It was just that he wanted both of them equally, they both wanted him, and it seemed to help keep the peace in the band. If Taime struck out one night and wanted Greg then Kelly would make sure to keep Brent entertained. Still, maybe he needed to find a new band. “But I am up for a party, so let’s roll.”

Before Izzy could make another snide comment, Kelly opened the backseat door and got in. He tuned out whatever promise Tracii made to Izzy to make it up to him. Kelly was going to use this car ride to think a lot about what he really wanted out of his life, cock, and bass.

…

 

Axl awoke to the sound of loud snoring and saw sunny hair mixed with real rays of sunshine. Lifting his head, he found himself lying on top of a slumbering Duff. He smiled when his body felt Duff’s warm arms touching his back. They held him firmly even in his sleep. Axl knew that Duff never hold him prisoner, just hold him. That feeling made him never want to leave Duff’s side. He realized how much he missed Duff when he ran away. Strangely, it didn’t surprise Axl that he didn’t want to break away from this more intimate embrace. He wanted to stay with Duff for as long as he could. He loved the way Duff made him feel. It was the right decision to come here and not go to Chris’s house. Duff would never hurt him. Axl was sure of that and he loved that feeling, and the reassurance that came with it. There were never any strings.

Stretching up, he placed a gentle kiss on Duff’s cheek. He grinned when Duff’s snore was interrupted and the bassist shifted in his sleep. Duff’s hands just refolded themselves over the small of Axl’s back. Axl snuggled further down Duff’s chest into his warm spot. Laying his head against Duff’s breastbone, he smiled dreamily at the bassist. His eyes filled with sleep and serenity. As his eyes slowly fell shut again, one stray thought crossed his mind. He wondered how his legs had gotten so entangled with Duff’s long wiry body. He didn’t care. Axl liked everything about this position. He felt like Duff did too, but he was too shy to officially ask. Duff was his security blanket and right now that’s exactly what Axl needed.

…

There were several times Izzy wanted to laugh at Kelly’s awkwardness on the ride to the Crue’s after party. A quick glare from Tracii convinced him to hold his tongue. As horny as Tracii could be, he could also be a mean fucker and hold out for long periods of time. Izzy wanted sex and soon, so he heeded the warning.

The bassist fidgeted and squirmed in his seat as if they were leading him back to his jailers. It made Izzy wonder how much Kelly really enjoyed the two Pussycats, but any time he tried to ask, Kelly would always defend the pair. It was fucked up in Izzy’s opinion. Tracii was the only one not bothered, rather oblivious really, and chatted nonstop about music. It seemed to soothe Kelly. Izzy smiled secretly, enjoying the thoughtfulness of his boyfriend. Then again, Izzy didn’t feel like being a nice boy tonight, so he looked for opportunities to make Kelly uncomfortable. At the moment Tracii was talking about touring, and listening to Kelly tell about whom he slept with when he worked as a roadie.

“Did you ever have someone tie you up with electrical tape?” Izzy asked as he pulled up to a red light.

“Tie me up with electrical tape?” Kelly asked incredulously. “Um, no.”

Izzy turned to Tracii and said, “We should try it with him. He’d love it.” He turned to look at Kelly in the rear view mirror. An evil smile was on his enterprising lips. “What do you say? Want to try it tonight? It’s a Crue party. _Anything_ can happen. And I wouldn’t mind seeing that sexy mouth of yours pleasuring Tracii, or me.”

 _I’d want to do a lot more to you than that,_ Kelly thought as he crossed his legs.

“Why don’t you ask if I’m into it?” Tracii whined. Izzy laughed and stepped on the gas pedal without waiting for the green light. Cars screeched to a halt, creating a maze that Izzy casually zigzagged through.

“Because I know you’d love to watch him suck me, you dirty boy.”

Tracii laughed and nodded his head yes. None of them brought it up for the remainder of the drive, but Izzy stole secret looks at Kelly. His smile was tempting and sexy. Kelly could feel his body growing hotter by the minute.

“Don’t want to go in?” Izzy asked as Kelly paused outside the Crue house. “Or are you considering our offer? It’s only good tonight.”

“Uh, what?”

“Izzy quit being a tease,” Tracii said as he wrapped his arms around Izzy’s waist and rested his head against his shoulder. “He wants Greg and Brent. Not us.” He turned to Kelly. “But we should definitely jam together some time! I’d love to see what you can do with your bass.”

“That’s all I’m asking for too,” Izzy pouted in an attempt at being innocent.

“Shut up,” Tracii replied and pulled Izzy along with him. “Kelly, you can do whatever you want. We’re not staying long.”

Not knowing what else to do, Kelly walked in with them. They found Taime going down on Nikki who was busy watching two girls make out. After Greg and Brent saw him, Kelly instantly gravitated to his lovers. Tracii paused to watch. Izzy moved deeper into the apartment in search of liquor, drugs, and valuables that weren’t nailed down. As he maneuvered through the cluster of people, a hand tapped his shoulder. Turning around, he was met by a guy with jet-black curls, black leather pants and a white leather jacket that hid a black disco ball shirt underneath.

“You’re Izzy from Indiana, right?”

“Who are you?” Izzy asked as he analyzed the rocker who just laughed a little. _Good. You should be nervous._

“Name’s Lizzie Grey. I’m in London. Heard you singing tonight at the Troubadour. Is that what you do?”

“Usually I play guitar. Our singer was a no show.”

“Falling out?”

Izzy gritted his teeth and turned away. He wasn’t in the mood for any backhanded slams on his sexuality and especially on _that_ relationship. Just as he took a step in the other direction, Lizzie sidestepped into his path.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. Honest,” he said. Izzy didn’t reply, only stared at him. “I just wanted to tell you you have a pretty good voice and your guitar playing is cool. Really raw.”

“Thanks,” Izzy hissed through his teeth. He took another step to get away from Lizzie, but the musician stepped in front of him again.

“I didn’t recognize some of those songs you guys played. Who wrote them?”

“Me,” Izzy replied flatly. He left out the small detail that at least one if not more were ones that he and Axl started back in Indiana, and that Chris helped with the riffs, not to mention Tracii’s involvement, but he was trying to get away from Lizzie.

“Look.” Lizzie clasped his shoulder and held the agitated guitarist in place. “I’m trying to revamp London and I like your songs. I think you have potential. We need a rhythm guy, and I could use some help with lyrics so if you’re you should come try out. I’ll put in a good word for you. And I don’t care who you fuck. None of us do and if you want some bonding time with your band mates, well, let’s just say that _all_ of us accommodating.” He patted Izzy’s shoulder and said, “Think about it.”

Izzy felt his entire body unravel as soon as Lizzie left. He didn’t know why it made him anxious to be approached by other bands. He ought to be flattered that bands wanted him, yet the familiar worry that he wasn’t good enough always surfaced. His anxiety always increased with each new band he joined. It was new people, new sound, new look, so much new in a short amount of time. Izzy trusted that he could hold his own, but his mind would trick him into worrying about everything all at once. His sampling of the drugs he dealt helped quell his worries. He still made sure to charge full price for the not-as-full baggies he sold.

Warm arms came around his waist and a head rubbed against his ribs, causing Izzy to jump and curse. A muffled ‘sorry’ and release of his body brought a sad look to his features when he saw Tracii shrink back into the crowd. Feeling horrible at his reaction, and relieved it was Tracii, he immediately reached out and pulled him back into a smothering tight hug. A happy squeak came from Tracii’s lips as he snuggled in Izzy’s embrace.

“Sorry, baby,” Izzy mumbled into Tracii’s hair. “I was lost in thought.”

“Sorry I scared you.” Then Tracii’s tone changed to a sexier register. “I just wanted to tell you how hot you were on the mic tonight.”

“Oh did you?” Izzy teased, brushing his fingertips across the nape of his neck.

“Yeah. You should sing more often.” Tracii pressed his hardening crotch against Izzy’s thigh. “Gets me hot.”

“Really.”

“Yeah.” Tracii continued to purr as he gyrated slowly against Izzy. “I’ve always wanted to sleep with a singer.”

“Yeah, me too,” Izzy said.

Tracii dropped his head against Izzy’s chest and let out a small scream of frustration. Holding Izzy’s shoulders, he lifted his head up and said, “I’m trying to seduce you and you’re just making fun of me and teasing me instead. You’re impossible!”

Izzy chuckled and peppered kisses on Tracii’s lips. “I’m sorry, baby. I learned all my tricks from you and it’s too much fun to tease you. Let’s go back to the car and you can seduce me in private, how about that?”

“Does it really count if you’re telling me I can seduce you?” Tracii asked with a pout.

Izzy kissed his pursed lips and said, “I’m not telling you you can. You’re free to _try_.” He let his hands fall to the small of Tracii’s back. He folded his hands and tugged Tracii closer. He kissed his lips again. “We can do whatever you want. _I’ll_ do whatever you want, baby.”

Tracii chewed his lip, in a purposefully sensually wasy as he thought. “So I can fuck you over the hood of the car?”

“If you can seduce me into it, you can,” Izzy teased.

Tracii laughed and dragged Izzy back out of the crowd to the door. They passed Kelly who was sitting beside his band mate, Mark who was half gone. Both he and Kelly stared at a random spot in the room, but only Kelly had any brain activity. His thoughts echoed back to Izzy’s chiding, yet chillingly serious remarks about tying him up. His cock stirred at the mention of “leather restraints”, “blindfolds”, “tape”, and how “pretty” he would look. Any time someone called him pretty or complimented his looks it turned him on. Steve’s own voice echoed Izzy’s plans for him. _Apparently everyone wants to tie me up and gag me._

He wondered vaguely where Brent and Greg had run off and whether they would ever want to tie him up. They had smiled at him when he entered the apartment, but then turned their attention back to Faster’s vocalist sucking off Sixx. Kelly had arrived just when Greg slapped the handcuffs on Taime’s wrists before he started to deep throat. Brent only grinned conspiratorially at this counterpart. If Kelly were in a better mood, he would have laughed since it seemed like he had a knack for attracting three-way relationships with him as the centerfold. A group of women walked by him and a new thought crossed his mind.

 _Maybe I can use my superpowers for good instead of evil?_ He thought and slid up beside the girls. If he was going to be the centerpiece in a three-way tonight it would be between two girls for a change.

…

 

“That band was shit,” Slash announced, swaying against the bar.

“Izzy wasn’t,” Steven defended, “but Tracii sucks no matter what, so I see why you say that.”

“Oh, fuck Stradlin! All I want to do is play my guitar. That’s all I care about. I have a ten mile long list of girls telling me that I talk more about my guitar than I do about anything else.” Slash swung his drink back dramatically. Steven caught him before he could fall on his ass. “But I still want to have someone that only I get to fuck. Izzy has that and he’s a total dick to Tracii! I wouldn’t be a dick to Tracii. Fuck, if we were together we could just talk about guitars, get drunk, and fuck! I should be with Tracii. Not him!”

“Please don’t start going out with him again,” Steven moaned as he tried to keep Slash upright. “It sucked enough when you two were together and you told me about it.”

“Why? Is it because I really do talk too much about my guitars? Does that mean I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life?” Slash’s feet fell over each other as he slid down the length of the bar. “I mean, at least if I’m a famous rock star, I’ll never be alone, people will always be around, you know? Steven? Steven!”

“Whoops. I think you’ve had a little too much there.” A strong hand caught his shoulder and eased him onto a stool. Slash looked up to find Duff smiling at him. Slash swore the blonde’s eyes were leaking purple vodka, but he thought it’d be rude to point that out. _Maybe it’s a new punk look I don’t get._ Somehow the towering blonde stood fully erect even while Slash’s head was horizontal on the bar top. The hard wood felt wet against his cheek.

“Where’s Steven?” Duff asked, keeping one hand on Slash’s back between his shoulder blades to hold him in place fearing he’d fall.

Slash pushed his wild curls from his eyes and scanned the crowd. It seemed like the blonde drummer popped in and out the entire night. He had surrounded himself with women, talking to them, touching them. Lips spread wide in a smile like a lovable puppy. Not able to make words, Slash pointed.

“He gets around quick,” Duff observed.

“He’s the fucking energizer bunny,” Slash muttered.

“So what’s this about a long list of women?”

“What?” Slash whipped his head up so fast he slipped off the stool and right into Duff’s prepared arms.

“Easy, babe.” Duff kept his hand on Slash’s shoulder, not trusting his drunken smiling band mate. He coughed before continuing, “Sorry about the gig falling through. The owner didn’t tell me we had to presale half the tickets.”

“At least you tried, man.” Slash gave a kind smile, despite the frustration rumbling in his gut. “Sorry the band sucked ass tonight. Usually the Troubadour has good bands. These guys were shit.”

“I don’t know. Izzy has a decent voice. I’ve met him a couple times and Tracii’s pretty skilled with his guitar.”

“You’ve met _both_ of them?” Slash asked his voice growing angry.

“Briefly. Want to get out of here?”

“What was that?” Slash yelled over the music that blasted over the PA system.

Duff pulled Slash close and yelled in his ear, “I said do would you want to get out of here? It’s kind of a drag.”

“Okay!” Slash yelled back with a nod. He frowned when Duff didn’t let him standup.

The blonde looked around the room then back at Slash and asked, “Uh, is it okay to just leave Steven here?”

“Would you want to be taken away from that?”

Duff cast an indecipherable look at Steven who had his head in a cute brunette’s lap. Duff shrugged. “Guess not.”

“Let’s go!” Slash exclaimed, rolling off his stool and trying to find the door before he took two steps.

Duff held his waist tightly, maneuvering him around the people. Once outside in the warm fesh air, Duff locked Slash’s hands around his waist. Slash smiled as he interlaced his fingers in a prayer that dangled off Duff’s hips.

“Hey! I’m your belt!” Slash chirped as he slid down a little. Duff pulled him and his jeans back up to a better position. As a ‘thank you’, Slash nuzzled his nose into Duff’s bare side. His nose was colder than Duff anticipated and he jumped which sent Slash stumbling forward. Duff caught him just as Slash caught hold of the light post. He dizzily swirled around it like a stripper, but grabbed hold of Duff’s outstretched wrist and looked at him with wide anxious eyes.

“Sorry, it tickled,” Duff said bashfully, tucking his chin into his chest. Slash smiled and straightened up. He launched himself onto Duff and curled himself into his chest, seeking the warmth and comfort that came with those lanky arms.

“Hey,” Slash said as he rubbed his face against Duff’s chest like a happy cat. “You hungry?” Slash asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t have any dough on me.”

“No need. Dina, Mc-something or other, was kind enough to leave me her wallet, and there’s quite a few Benjamins who would like to treat us to some food.” Slash laughed, flipping the wallet open.

“You swiped that off a girl in the bar?”

“No. She was busy with Steven and I couldn’t ask her if I could borrow it. You hungry or not?” Slash asked, waving the wallet in front of Duff’s face. Those hazel jewels stared past the dancing leather and into Slash’s gorgeous dilated brown eyes.

“Famished,” Duff said as he exhaled.

Slash paused. Then he smiled really big and threw his head back. His hair flew wild as he punched a fist to the sky. “Off to Canter’s then. Food, good food, open late, like real late. Hey!” He paused, realizing how loud his voice was. “How come you’re not drunk?”

“I am,” Duff replied with a sneaky smile. “You’re just a lightweight.”

“Am not! I’ll drink you under the table any day!” Slash laughed and pushed Duff into the lamppost. He instantly regretted the loss of contact, but Duff came charging back at him. With little effort Duff pulled the guitarist into a headlock. Slash giggled along with Duff as he tried to tangle their legs to trip him. Duff was ready for this. Crouching down, he picked Slash up in one sweep and threw him over his shoulder. Slash laughed drunkenly as they continued down the street.

“Damn, you’re heavy,” Duff grunted and slapped Slash’s ass.

Slash moaned and stretched over Duff’s shoulder like a cat. He whined, “No one told you to pick me up, fucker.” The annoyance in his tone was faked and he ended his statement with a laugh. “I feel really good, do you know that? So good!” He started swinging his arms, which almost sent both of them to the concrete. Duff stopped and set Slash down on the sidewalk. Slash’s head fell into the crook of Duff’s neck, still giggling as they walked together.

“So… I heard you telling imaginary Steven about a long list of women, and how you don’t talk to them enough. What’s that all about?”

“Oh yeah! No… ” Slash pulled away, ecstatic he didn’t stumble. “Girls always tell me I talk too much about my guitar and I don’t focus on them enough. Then they ditch me.”

“You should just forget them and find someone who understands you,” Duff replied with a cock of his eyebrow. A mysterious expression etched into Duff’s earnest face.

Slash gnawed on his lips, as he vaguely comprehended that Duff was looking him over. The guitarist swayed, willing his hair to cover his face, and hopefully stop his loose mouth. “Well, uh, yeah. You’re right. Um, I…” Slash looked all around, but never at Duff. _What are you saying Slash? Tell him, tell him, tell him!_ Slash cursed to himself. His heart thundered against his ribs, as he felt a finger slip under his chin. The subtle pressure made him look up and meet two warm almond eyes that glowed in the acidic jungle lights.

“Why do you still do that?” Duff’s murmur pricked every fiber of Slash’s being like a sensuous touch. More fingers joined the one holding his jaw aloft. Slash lost his breath when he felt Duff’s long middle finger extend to pet and stroke the underside of his neck. “Why do you still hide from me? I’m not the rest of the world. You know me. I’m me. I’m Duff, your bassist.”

 _He didn’t say “friend”. Could he maybe be gay, or at least bi?_ Slash wondered.

Piercing sirens disturbed the musicians' moment of self-discovery. Blue and red lights reflected off the windows and metallic awnings illuminating the safety of the indigo night. Tires squealed. Breaks locked. They were drawing closer.

“Shit,” Slash cursed, jumping away from Duff. “I’ve got drugs on me, man. What am I going to do? We can’t out run them. There’s no time. They’ll see us if we go up the fire escapes. What are we…?”

Hands seized the front of Slash’s smiley face t-shirt and threw him back into a graffiti covered door. Duff pressed their lips together, cradling the guitarist into his body. Slash’s eyes widened as his hands flailed awkwardly at his side. A hand snaked up under his shirt, fingers scratching along his ribs. Slash opened his mouth to say something but ended up allowing for the kiss to deepen. Duff slid his fingers through Slash’s hair, causing the guitarist to purr against the bassist’s lips. Arms wrapped around Duff’s reassuring shoulders.

“Hey, you two!” A loud voice yelled above the blaring police cars.

Duff stopped the kiss, but kept his hand on Slash’s nipple. Slash shook slightly from the pleasure coursing through his veins. Leaning forward, Duff whispered “Keep your hair in your face and don’t say anything.”

Slash obeyed, bowing his head against Duff’s chest. His hair shielded him like a black curtain from the dangerous predators of the night.

“Sorry, officer. We were just about to…”

“Take it home, kids. This isn’t the place for you two to be screwing around.” The officer sneered, pointing his baton. “I’d arrest you right now if we didn’t have bigger problems. Now get the hell home.”

The car whizzed away with the last of the convoy. Slash clung tighter to Duff who held him protectively with his head high, watching and waiting until the last of the patrol cars disappeared from sight. Once the night faded back into the unknown darkness, Duff drifted away.

“How’d you know he would let us go?”

“My brother told me to do it if I ever got caught out late with a guy,” Duff replied.

“With a guy?” Slash spluttered and Duff’s smile was a bit too wicked to be considered devoid of ulterior motives.

“Yeah. I always had a habit of landing pretty boys.”

“You’re… I’m…” Slash’s voice trailed off as his mouth fell open. Suddenly the pounding in his chest was louder than the gentle rustle of leaves from the wind. His body was burning hotter and he was caught in a decision of whether or not to take off the mask.

Duff flashed a sexy smile and reached out for Slash, walking him backwards until his back hit the street light. Wedging his leg between Slash’s supple thighs, he hoisted him higher up his chest, so their lips were level with each other. He scooped one hand under Slash’s ass to steady him, while cupping Slash’s head with the other. Then Duff took possession of those plush lips he’d been drooling over since he first laid eyes on the rock star.

The kiss came before Slash could even register just how close he was to Duff, not to mention how hard his crotch was. He let the alcohol eradicate the last bit of his nerves and encircled his arms around the blonde’s neck to get closer to that salacious mouth. The kiss was passionate and hard. Duff was in control and delighted in drawing out each and every sound from Slash’s eager throat.

Without breaking contact, Duff lifted him higher up in the air. On instinct, Slash’s tongue obliged and slid down the taller man’s mouth. He whimpered as Duff squeezed his ass and stroked his back in long fluid petting motions. With a loud wet pop, they broke the kiss. Slash slid down Duff’s chest with his face landing on his chest. He shuddered as Duff’s hot pants for air descended down his neck. His own breath was just as shaky if not more so.

“So you like guys,” Slash said, exhaling raggedly.

Duff laughed breathlessly and said, “I like you best.” He smiled in a happy way when he saw Slash’s shining eyes beam up at him. He drew light circles around Slash’s shoulder blades.

“How did you know I did?” Slash asked.

“A little Izzy told me.” Duff smoothed away the curls to see Slash’s adorable face. He bit his lip to fight back the desire to take him right there and the reaction to laugh at the comical look of surprise on the guitarist’s face. “See why I like Izzy? He tells me really important things about you.” Slash bit his lip and Duff squeezed his legs together to stop his growing horniess. “Sorry our first kiss had to be like this.”

“Why? It was fucking hot and no one got arrested!” Slash exclaimed, causing Duff to laugh this time.

“So want to keep going?” Duff asked.

Slash paused for a minute unsure why he was nervous when he had just been shoving his tongue down Duff’s throat and vice versa. He looked down at his feet. They were no help. A hand brushed his cheek, shooing the rogue curls from his face. Slash peeked up and found Duff’s sweet and caring eyes gazing down at him. The look made him feel warm and tingly all over. He was glad Duff was holding him because he swore he would melt in a puddle if he wasn’t.

“It’s okay, babe. We could just get breakfast. It’s already morning.”

“It is?” Completely befuddled, Slash looked around the streets, but saw nothing but pitch-blackness.

“Yeah. See that thin line of orange?” Duff pointed. Slash squinted and rose up on his tippy toes. In the end, he shook his head. Duff took his arm and gave a gentle tug. “Follow me.”

He led Slash down the street to a building that used to be a mechanic shop. The building had long since started to decay. Scattered debris littered the ground among dying shrubs that were over-grown. Graffiti decorated the chipped bricks and peeked from behind the vine-like weeds that climbed the sides of the building. Duff waded through the mess, stepping over siding and fallen shudders to get to the fire escape. With an impressive jump, he caught the low hanging bar of the first wrung and broke it free. The ladder came down. He turned and held out his hand to Slash who accepted. Slash climbed up the wrought iron bars, occasionally turning back to make sure Duff was behind him. Duff was full of surprises that night and it was getting Slash more excited. He held his breath as he climbed the rest of the way.

Once the pair reached the roof, they found the sun had risen a little higher above the tall buildings. Its chrona was still dull so they could look at the orange orb burning in the sky. The true beauty was below according to Duff who motioned for Slash to look down. The bright city lights were being washed out by the morning’s dusky blue mist. The dark caverns were shrinking as the stains on the concrete forest floor were purified once again.

Despite the sun, Slash shivered slightly. Silently, Duff drew him close to his side. Slash tried to slip his hand inside Duff’s jacket, but bumped into Duff’s hand. He looked up at Duff who just smiled sweetly at him and took his hand with his. They watched their hands play with each other’s, completely ignoring the emerging sun. Slash found this to be stupid flirty shit, but he was beyond happy to be doing it with Duff. It seemed like Duff liked this sort of thing, so it made him happy.

“What do you think?” Duff asked. Slash blinked in confusion. Duff nodded to the rising sun.

He looked back at Duff’s hand in his and smiled. Softly, he whispered, “I think you’re beautiful.” His hand dropped Duff’s and slapped over his mouth. Eyes wide, he looked back at Duff who smiled teasingly.

“What was that, babe?” Duff taunted as he tucked Slash’s curls behind his ear before he could let them fall in his face.

“I said… I said that?” Slash stuttered and looked to Duff for help. The blonde smiled and stroked the corner of Slash’s mouth as if trying to coax the words out. Inside, Slash was becoming less intoxicated and his shy anxiousness was rising again. His mouth wasn’t working. His brain was short-circuiting with what to do or say and belittling him for saying that so soon in the one relationship he wanted to workout.

Without warning, he grabbed Duff’s head and smashed their lips together. It came out sloppy and messier than he hoped, but at least he was kissing Duff again. After a few minutes, Duff pulled back. Slash shamelessly whimpered from the rebuff, but quieted when he saw the same sweet and loving eyes shining back at him.

“How far do you want to go, babe?” Duff asked as he kneaded Slash’s back. The guitarist smiled lazily and laid his cheek against Duff’s chest, kissing his chest through the t-shirt. He could just fall asleep in Duff’s arms and yet he wanted to do more. “You have to tell me what you want, babe. I won’t do anything you’re not ready to do.”

“I want. I want to…”

“What do you want?” Duff lifted his chin. “I won’t laugh. I want to be with you and I want you to have a good time.”

No matter what he did, Slash couldn’t bring himself to say it. He was too worried about fucking it up and having Duff walk away from him. Instead of responding, Slash pulled the neck of Duff’s Sex Pistols shirt down and sucked his clavicles. Duff gasped which quickly became moans.

Slash slid down to his knees and started unzipping Duff’s jeans. The blonde braced himself on Slash’s firm shoulders as he watched the guitarist use his skilled hands. “Are you sure, babe?”

“Yeah,” Slash said, taking the waistband and tugging it down just a little bit to see the full expanse of his hipbones. “I’m good at this and I want to get you off like this.”

“All right, babe. Just let me sit down first, so you don’t blow me over, okay?”

Slash rolled his eyes at the lame joke, but grinned when he saw Duff laugh at his own joke. He helped Duff sit. Taking hold of Duff’s jeans, he tugged them down. With the help of Duff lifting his hips they eased silkily off his soft thighs. The fabric pooled at his ankles and Slash crawled forward between his spread legs. He started kissing the soft newly exposed flesh, causing Duff to purr softly and thread his hand in Slash’s hair.

“That feels so good,” Duff sighed as Slash started to lightly suck on a tender spot.

“Good,” Slash mumbled in reply and started kissing higher up Duff’s thigh. He placed one hand beside Duff’s hip for balance while the other stroked Duff’s leg, drawing the sweetest gasps of delight from his pouty lips. He sneaked peeks at Duff’s face, enjoying the contortions of pleasure on the blonde’s face. His courage was building as he realized it was he who was making Duff feel like that. Duff’s head fell back as he gasped sharply when Slash found an extra erogenous zone at the crease where his thigh and torso met. Duff’s beautiful elongated neck was on display for Slash and it intrigued him. Placing his other hand beside Duff’s hips, Slash leaned up and over Duff’s body and licked a long stripe up his neck.

“Fuck!” Duff groaned and slammed his eyes shut. “God, do that again!”

Slash grinned and complied, licking and sucking long lines up and down Duff’s neck. The blonde shuddered beneath him and wrapped his arms around Slash, holding on to him to keep the contact between their bodies. Switching his weight to one hand, Slash curled the other one around Duff’s back as he continued to feast on the hot salty skin. The bassist started grinding up against him, leaving a damp trail of pre-cum over Slash’s stomach. That only helped turn the guitarist on more.

Pulling back, Slash found two hazy eyes peering back at him from beneath lidded eyes. He kissed Duff’s mouth again, going back for a soft nip to his jaw before trailing down Duff’s throat. When he hummed Duff’s lower lip quivered from the vibrations at the base of his throat. Slash nudged the cross and padlock necklaces aside with his nose to get better access to Duff’s clavicles. Like a lollipop he sucked them before tracing his way over to the blonde’s shoulder. Duff moaned, wiggling under him as the neckline of his t-shirt was pulled down and Slash went exploring for more skin.

“Damn it,” Duff moaned and pushed out of Slash’s grip. “I thought you wanted to suck me off. Not suck my neck.”

“You don’t like it?” Slash asked licking his already wet lip.

“I fucking love it,” Duff said with a slight chuckle. “I just want to feel your sexy mouth on my cock.”

Slash laughed and said, “Get naked and I will.”

Duff did and bent his body in preparation to receive Slash’s ministrations again. The guitarist flashed him an evil grin and used his teeth to peel off Duff’s underwear. His erection sprung free and Slash kissed the tip before placing kisses and sly licks along the entire length. Duff moaned and shuffled his legs as Slash teased him a little longer before taking all of him in his mouth. The heat and pressure of that gorgeous mouth, and seeing it happen right before his eyes, made Duff’s arms shake and his head lull to his shoulders.

“Is this still good?” Slash asked.

“What?” Duff blinked incredulously at what he perceived as an absurd question. His gaze softened when he realize Slash was morphing back into the shy kid. “Babe, you’ve got me naked and out of control what do you think? Just shut up and kiss me…” He threaded his hands in Slash’s hair and yanked him forward into a hot kiss. Slash was left breathless as the kiss ended too soon. “Now finish me.”

Slash smiled, but asked, “Can I have you inside of me when you do?”

Some of the haze left Duff’s eyes, as he looked the guitarist over, scrutinizing the request and Slash’s body movements. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” Duff said, moving into a sitting position. “I want your mouth as much as I want your ass. Honestly.”

“I know, but I want to feel the pleasure I’m creating in you in me.”

“Fuck!” Duff exclaimed. Since he was spending so much time worrying about Slash he didn’t realize Slash had been stroking his cock. Immediately, he put a hand over Slash’s. “You need to knock that off or I’ll pop in a second. Let’s get you naked.”

Slash was already bare-chested, but stood to take his pants off. Duff stopped him. He planned to strip him himself. Using his teeth, Duff unlaced the strings of Slash’s leathers. His hands rubbed Slash’s hips while he sucked his lower belly slowly easing the pants off his legs. He helped Slash step out of them before lounging back like a hungry cat eyeing its prize with approval and a ravenous appetite.

Slash knelt on slightly shaky knees. It was the first time he was this exposed in front of someone. He fouced on the only thing Duff wore, the punk padlock in an effort to calm him. Duff’s eyes, lips, and all of him made him to hot. Reaching out for his hips, Duff eased Slash onto his lap. His fingers walked their way down his back to stroke and pet his round ass. To soothe any lingering nerves he kissed Slash, enticing the younger to take control of his mouth. He wanted Slash to feel in control of something as well as prepare himself to submit to Duff. Slash squeaked when Duff slide a finger inside his slightly stretched hole.

“That was kind of cute, you know,” Duff chided.

“I’m not cute!” Slash protested and lifted his ass to help it spread for more of Duff’s long finger.

“You’re right,” Duff agreed and slipped another finger in him. “You’re pretty.”

“Nnh, that was a dirty trick!” Slash growled.

“Sorry, babe. Did that hurt?” Duff looked worried.

Slash thought for a minute then exclaimed, “No.”

“Good.” Duff smiled. “Now just breathe for me and I promise it will feel better soon, okay?” Slash nodded. “How does this feel?”

“Good,” Slash said as he started moving and twisting his body searching for the right feeling while Duff’s fingers moved inside of him. He felt very full and slightly uncomfortable, but he wanted to push through any pain to get to the good stuff Duff promised him.

“Slow, babe. We have all the time in the world,” Duff reminded him waiting for Slash to calm down before he started scissoring his fingers. Slash responded with eager twists and a beautiful backward bend of his spine as Duff played with him. “Jesus you’re gorgeous like that.” Duff ran a hand up Slash’s bare chest sending tantalizing sparks of electricity all over the guitarist’s body.

Slash moaned as he ground harder on Duff’s fingers, and demanded in a whiny and impatient voice, “Give it to me.”

“Demanding, huh?” Duff teased, but obeyed the command, biting back that it was cute the way Slash demanded it.

Leaning up, he kissed Slash’s mouth as he guided the younger’s hips forward. Duff was not about to see any pain mar those pretty eyes and he stopped Slash every time the kid tried to take more too fast. Slash finally gave himself over to Duff’s lead and let him be guided through the process. Sweat broke out over his skin as he was finally filled with all of Duff. The honeyed phrases and compliments from Duff helped encourage and relax him.

“Let me,” Slash breathed. “I need to.”

“All right, babe,” Duff purred. “Ride me.”

Slash rocked his hips, raising, and slamming himself down as he searched for the right rhythm. Duff’s own hips moved and rocked beneath him to try to coach Slash without being too demanding. Soon the rockers locked in and were writhing in sync together. Their pelvises slammed together slipping a little from the sweat pooling on their bodies. Slash dug his hands in Duff’s hair while Duff stroked Slash’s belly causing him to purr and arch like a cat. Tipping the guitarist forward just slightly with his long legs, Duff started to lick his solid pectoral muscle. Slash moaned from the attention and squeezed his inner walls around Duff’s cock. He laughed when Duff almost bit his tongue from the shock of pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so good, babe,” Duff hissed between his teeth. He was starting to come undone, but he wanted Slash to get there first.

“So do you, sexy boy,” Slash purred back.

Duff inwardly cursed that Slash sounded so much more in control than he felt right now. Before he could wonder too long if Slash was just playing innocent, Duff arched violently. His shoulder blades were the only thing that held him off the ground. Slash was in a similar position. His back was completely bowed backwards chanting Duff’s name as he made sure to ride out each and every pulsating wave of his orgasm. He loved the feeling of Duff filling him up, the heat, the friction, and the unbelievable feeling of completion that was flooding his body and brain as Duff came inside him yet he seemed let down.

A cry of passion from his own mouth caught him by surprise. Looking down he saw Duff pumping his cock. The bassist leaned forward to kiss Slash’s tender belly, nipping it once, but ended up moaning against his skin more than actually kissing the wet flesh. Slash groaned in response and fell back onto Duff’s bent knees as a white light flashed before his eyes. He thrust and rubbed against Duff’s thighs until he went soft.

As they fell back to Earth they searched out the other not wanting to be separated. They wavered together in a celestial plane just above the earth and the sky until their limbs couldn’t support them any more and they curled up in each other’s arms. Discarded clothes made a nest for them as they found each other.

Duff placed Slash’s head on his chest, smiling when the guitarist freely placed a kiss on his nipple. Their sweat cemented their bodies together. A thumb placed under Slash’s chin stilled his quivering lips. Looking up, he found Duff pouting slightly. Slash tucked his damp hair behind his ears, baring his eyes and face. Duff beamed like a kid on Christmas. They continued to kiss softly, allowing the sun to clothe them in its warmth as they basked in each other.

…

After his wonderful time with Slash, Duff felt like he floated home. He didn’t really know why he was going back to his apartment and leaving his new precious babe. All he really wanted to do was climb into Slash’s bed and live there. He wanted to be there when Slash started strumming his guitar, when he came home from school, when he got out of the shower. That last one caused him to trip as he bounded up the stairs in a comical fashion.

Yet, there he was at his home. Alone. He opened the front door and stumbled happily around his messy room in search of his bed. He’d never felt like this before, so he wasn’t sure where else to go except to bed. Upon spotting it, he promptly belly-flopped onto the mattress and let out a groan of sadness and relaxation. A muffled moan responded. Duff pursed his lips in wonderment of who responded to him. As he rose to his elbows, he briefly wondered if Slash had followed him home and was snuggled under the covers waiting for him. Rolling onto his side, Duff found a boy in his bed, but this one had shaggy red hair. One leg lay on top of the other while the upper body was twisted to face the other way. The face was cherub-like and peaceful though the position looked contorted and painful to Duff. His checkered shirt was unbuttoned and strewn haphazardly across the mattress. His slightly longer copper hair mirrored his body’s disarray.

 _Axl_ , Duff thought with a smile. His gaze traveled over Axl’s body lingering on where it was the most twisted. One of Axl’s hands was in his pants while the other was thrown across his eyes to block out the afternoon sunlight that peeked through the shoddy blinds. _He can’t be comfortable like that,_ Duff reasoned. With great care, Duff untangled Axl’s body until the singer was stretched out flat on his back. _There. Much more comfortable._

Duff slid his hands under Axl’s body to pull the blanket out from beneath him. Lying down, he then shifted the blanket so it wrapped around both of them. The softest mew from Axl made Duff happy and encouraged him to lay an arm comfortingly over Axl’s torso. He hoped Axl wouldn’t mind. The red head was getting more relaxed about Duff touching him, but he wanted to be careful to not over step the privilege. It was inevitable that at some point during the night, Duff would end up cuddling him. It was a natural habit of his to hold things in his sleep. At the moment Axl didn’t seem to protest the intrusion of his personal space, though he ran a hand down the expanse of his exposed torso toward his pants. Duff’s arm rebuffed him, but he seemed okay about it and let his hand relax on his stomach. Feeling secure about Axl’s response, Duff drifted to his own dreamworld and barely noticed that Axl kept trying to touch himself in his sleep.

…

Sometime as dusk was settling over L.A. Duff felt a body rubbing against his. Cracking an eye open he found Axl trying to wedge himself beneath Duff’s larger body and the mattress. Duff beamed and let Axl sink deeper beneath him. He rolled himself half over on top of him, effectively covering the smaller boy. Axl’s body stopped and decompressed, as Duff became the extra layer of warmth and security he was searching for.

“Thank you,” Axl whispered softly.

“It’s okay,” Duff replied and laid his chin on Axl’s head that had been wedged in the space between Duff’s neck and collarbone.

“And for earlier,” Axl added.

“You were awake for that?”

Axl didn’t reply, but snuggled deeper under Duff’s body. After a few moments of silence, he asked, “Where were you? You didn’t come home.”

“Oh, I was, um, out with a friend. A very good friend.”

“Do I know him?”

“Maybe. His name’s Saul, but he prefers Slash. He’s really special to me and I think I’m actually special to him too now.”

“The name sounds familiar. What were you guys doing?”

“Uh, drinking, just hanging out and getting to know each other. He plays guitar.”

“Like Izzy?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you hung out with Izzy?”

Duff’s eyes flew wide, but went unnoticed since Axl’s back was to him. _Does he mean like in the same way I was with Slash? No. Axl’s not, well, you’ve had your thoughts you know. Just cool it, man. Don’t freak him out. I don’t think he knows Slash and I are fucking. Wait. Does he?_

Axl craned his head to peer up curiously at him. “Sorry, I was trying to think of when I saw Izzy last. He’s rather elusive.” Axl gave a snort of laughter at that comment. Duff relaxed since the cold air wasn’t hitting his bare legs anymore. “The last time I saw Izzy he needed a job. He said the one he had wasn’t panning out, but he needed dough for his music. I got him one with the guys I work with.”

“Thank you,” Axl said into his skin.

“Happy to do it. He’s a nice guy. A true punk musician. I like that about him. He’s got this way of knowing what’s cool and what’s coming next. He’s not the best guitar player, but it makes him rawer like me. He’s a fucking punk.”

“It’s because he keeps switching instruments. He can never stick with one type. He just goes and does whatever he feels like at the time without any thoughts,” Axl rambled.

His voice sounded bitter and it made Duff wonder more about the pair’s relationship, but he knew he couldn’t push Axl to tell him anything. Instead Duff said, “I saw him in this punk band once called Naughty Women. They were actually touring with a group I was a roadie for.”

“Was he playing guitar yet?”

“No. He was their drummer. They dressed like women.”

“What was he wearing?” Axl’s voice was hushed, yet too loud to be considered a whisper. The tone seemed constricted, but Duff chose to not say anything or comment on the blanket suddenly being pulled closer to Axl and off of Duff.

“Fishnets, I think and these fucking awesome combat boots. He had this black shirt on that looked like he was wearing a net. It was so punk rock, because he even put electric tape X’s over his nipples. All the chicks thought it was fucking hot. It was kind of cool in a punk way.” Duff stopped talking when he felt the bed creak. Axl had turned over onto his stomach. The blonde frowned a bit and loosened his grip. Grabbing Duff’s arm, he wrapped it around his shoulders. He gave it a couple tugs before Duff realized Axl wanted him to still hold him. His grip tightened.

“Have you jammed with him?” Axl asked.

“No. I’ve just seen him perform. I’d love to jam with him sometime.”

“Your friend Slash. Does he ever play with Izzy?”

“I’m not sure. I know they’ve talked to each other, but I think their main connection is through Tracii Guns.”

“He really likes Tracii, huh?”

“That’s what I hear. They’ve been pretty tight ever since Izzy came out here.”

“They make music together?”

“Yeah. They’re both rock stars and it’s fucking awesome watching those two together.”

“Does Tracii sing?”

“No. He plays guitar. I think he likes taking the lead parts. Izzy is really finding his groove in the rhythm section. He’s writing a lot more original stuff. I guess Tracii’s helping him with riffs. I’m not sure.”

“Okay.” Axl said, voice finite.

The tone startled Duff, but he fell silent. He held Axl closer and closed his eyes. A smile spread over his lips as his thoughts were finally allowed to drift back to what he wanted to think about. His precious babe, Slash. He was excited to see him again soon. He hoped school ended soon so they could hang out all day and night. Maybe he should go pick him up after school one day. He should deck himself out in leather and pick up the unsuspecting teen. Maybe threaten in his ear that he’d fuck him against the fence for his whole class to see how gorgeous he looked on his dick, or just hold him and kiss him sweetly. He had time to think. Slash wouldn’t be going to school until Thursday anyway.

…

The thud of someone knocking aroused Izzy from his sleep. He frowned and grumbled at the intruding noise. Chris was staying over at some girl’s house, his parents weren’t home, and Tracii was of no help. The smaller guitarist lay shamelessly spread out on the bed beside him. Having kicked off the covers during the night his naked body was on display. One arm was tucked behind his neck while the other draped lazily over his hip inches from his cock.

Izzy looked at his wrist dangling at his hip. It was reddened and striped with faint specs of blood. It mirrored his wrist that was still slightly sore and was turning purple. The night before the crafty guitarist had conned him into playing handcuffs. It was hot and a great time, but Izzy the lingering dull pain annoyed him.

Pushing the irritation out his mind, Izzy let his thoughts wander to the pleasure he had experienced last night by the hands of his bound lover. Izzy felt that seeing Tracii in this nonchalant, post-sex position suited Tracii perfectly. Tracii was splayed open and ready for Izzy to take again. The younger was always ready, but continued to be coquettish and slightly smug about his sex prowess. Tracii knew he was a wonderful fuck and loved to tease and excite his potential bed mates with his self-awareness of it. Izzy easily fell under his little shit’s spell many times. Even now he was finding himself fading from the world as his gaze crawled over Tracii’s naked skin. The guitarist shifted in his sleep, licking his lips enticingly. Izzy swore he was awake and doing it on purpose, but it didn’t matter because he was already reaching out to the wanton body, mouth watering, and eyes fixated on Tracii. He planned to give him exactly what the little tease’s body needed and deserved when the insistent knocking came again. With a muted scream of frustration, he tossed the balled up covers at Tracii and stormed out of the room.

“I’m fucking coming!” He yelled as he jumped over the stair railing. He wasn’t sure why he was answering the door. Normally he’d let the people fuck off, but something in his subconscious made him do it. Throwing open the door, he huffed, “What?”

“Hey, Izzy.”

Izzy froze instantly to the spot.

_Axl._

…


	10. Move to the City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The noirette opened the door, and took a step back. His eyes were wide and blinked slowly at Axl who looked rightfully pissed. The red head briefly wondered why he seemed uneasy around him. He’d never acted like this before with him. Pushing the thought away he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin defiantly.

A sore was developing on Axl’s inner lip where he’d been chewing on it. The bump was swollen and hurt when his teeth brushed against it. He used his tongue to push it away from his teeth, but it always came back to cause him more pain. Despite the discomfort and annoyance, he continued to bite at the spot. He tried turning his attention to his fingernails. First, he tried to just pick the dirt out of them. Then he started biting. One he bit too far and blood filled like a crimson halo around his remaining nail. It stung like hell. He scratched his face, and fidgeted with his hands. He tried anything to just not act on Izzy and Chris jamming right in front of him.

He felt so alone watching the pair play together. They were a part of something he wasn’t a part of yet. He didn’t know if he wanted to be a part of it. It didn’t seem right to just insert himself into what they were doing despite both of them asking for his input. Each time they looked at him, he’d shrug and clench his jaw tightly. Chris tried to be more accommodating, but Izzy waved him off after awhile. Relief and pain filled Axl when he saw Izzy dismiss the attempts. On one hand he gave Axl his freedom. On the other he felt shunned and alien to the scene again.

“Hey, bitches!” Came a loud voice at the entrance of the den. The guy was skinny with strong arms and carrying a bass drum.

“Where have you been? I called you two hours ago?” Chris asked as he moved to help Rob setup the equipment.

“Man, the asshole I work for kept me late. I’ve been restocking shelves all morning. Fucking shit. S’up, Iz?”

Izzy nodded.

Chris pointed at Axl. “This is Bill. Bill meet Rob our drummer.”

“How goes it?” Rob asked, paying more attention to setting up his gear.

Axl just nodded and turned his gaze to Izzy who stood next to him lighting a joint. Flipping the lighter closed, he turned to look at Axl. “Do you want to leave?”

Axl looked up, his eyes wide. He held himself very still, hoping he wouldn’t shake or whimper. Afraid. He was afraid, but not of Izzy, but what Izzy would do. He wanted to say yes, but if he did he wouldn’t be with Izzy. The guitarist’s brows were knitted, but his eyes were still the same gentle ones Axl remembered from Indiana. A soft touch to his shoulder brought him out of his fear paralysis.

“Hey there,” Izzy whispered, giving him a gentle squeeze.

“M’ fine,” Axl mumbled and hid his face between his bent knees.

Izzy sighed. A cloud of blue tinted white smoke drew around Axl’s body. Through the dense fog, he could see Izzy holding the joint out to him. His body froze up and Axl chewed his lip nervously. Hands clutched his knees harder as he bit his lip, trying to refuse the temptation. He needed to be in control. Of course, he’d had Indiana pot before and liked it, but he wasn’t sure of what this was.

A memory of the man in the black trench coat flashed through his mind. He glanced up at Izzy standing patiently beside him, offer extended. It scared him a little to know Izzy was trying new things like this and anxiety for Izzy’s physical well being swarmed him. His mental and sexual well being was always at the forefront of Axl’s mind, but now he had to be concerned about this.

“Izzy, come on. You’ll just have to sing,” Chris said, pulling a bass guitar over his shoulder.

With a roll of his eyes and one last hit, Izzy pushed himself off the wall. He placed the joint in the ashtray, and mumbled, “Try it. It won’t bite you.” Walking away, he didn’t even look at Axl as he took up his guitar. The trio started jamming, starting with a Led Zeppelin staple before dissolving into a punk rock jam.

Axl watched the trio even more intently. Izzy was drawing away form him into his music. He remembered when they went to that world together. It was warm and peaceful no matter how hard the real world was. It was their escape. No matter how hard they played or how deep their lyrics ran, it always felt safe and comfortable just like how Izzy made him feel. It was cathartic for both of them. A sexual release that Axl didn’t even know he needed. Axl cursed himself for the thoughts. He wished he could just get up and start singing. Then everything else, the voices, the emotions, the pain of years past would all go away. If only for a short time, they’d go away. Fear. Fear held him back. Not letting him move closer to Izzy to gain access into his as well as the world of music. Just then a warm body bumped into his, causing him to jump.

“Sorry, dude,” Tracii said, looking over his shoulder. He was on all fours and leaning over Axl’s lap. “Just grabbing the dope.” He took a long hit almost burning it down to his fingers and exhaled slow and long. Smiling giddily, he sat back against the wall beside Axl and held up the tiny stub. “Mm, hey, did you get some of this? You look bored as hell and totally fucking tense, babe.”

Axl looked at the blunt and then back at Tracii. The kid looked harmless, even kind of cute if Axl was being honest with himself. Not that Axl was attracted to him. He was straight like a good boy. There was just something about Tracii’s personality that made Axl want to get to know him. He wanted Tracii to be his friend.

“Hang on. I’ll be right back!” Tracii exclaimed and shot out of the room.

Axl moved to the couch to get a better view of the doorway. He glanced at Izzy who appeared to not notice him. With a slump of his shoulders, he laid back into the couch. It wasn’t long and Tracii had appeared.

“Here you go,” Tracii announced as he held the blunt in Axl’s face. He stretched himself out over the back of the couch. His face was mere inches from Axl’s.

 _Just like a cat,_ Axl thought.

“I’m okay,” he mumbled and looked away.

“Come on, babe. It’s good shit. Nothing’s going to happen. I wouldn’t let it.”

Axl looked at the drug then back at Tracii. Warm. His eyes were so warm and caring. Yet, there was a fire inside them, a little demon but maybe nothing worse than an imp. Axl wanted to be closer to Tracii. He wanted him as a friend to guide him into the next direction of his life.

“Hey, babe. You’re thinking too much.” Tracii pushed the blunt between his lips. Axl’s eyes widened, but didn’t spit it out. “Now I’m going to walk you through this. So just do what I tell you.” Axl gave a small nod. “Okay. Inhale. That’s it… really deep. All right. Now hold it in your lungs. Don’t exhale just let it sit there. Now exhale slowly. That’s it. That’s it. Slower. There you…” Axl coughed slightly at the end. “That’s okay. It happens.” Axl looked up; completely in awe that Tracii anticipated his emotion before Axl even felt it. “How you feeling now?”

           Axl thought for a minute. His mind was calmer and things seemed a little hazy. He was infatuated with Tracii’s little smile and his caring brown eyes. They were so brown. “Better.”

Tracii cocked his head and asked, “But not amazing?”

“What?”

“You’re not feeling amazing. You’re happier now, but still bored, right?”

“I’ll be fine,” Axl replied. His movements and speech seemed to happen outside of his body as if they were their own entity.

“Hell no, it’s not,” Tracii insisted. “Life is to be enjoyed at all times. And you’re not having a good time, so let’s go have one.” He leaned in close to Axl’s ear and whispered, “This session’s a bit of a drag anyway.”

Axl smiled and giggled a bit.

“See! Gotcha to laugh!” Tracii announced. He patted Axl’s shoulder. “Come on, babe. You can trust me.”

Axl looked at Tracii. His lips parted, ready to agree but the sound of Izzy’s guitar drew his gaze away. He looked back at his friend. His brother. Izzy was in his element, emulating Keith and trying to find himself. Hunger shown in Axl’s eyes as he stared slack jawed at Izzy. He wouldn’t admit it to himself just yet, but he wanted to be there. He wanted to be a rock star. He wanted to be with Izzy. A friendly pat on the back brought him back to reality.

“Hey. Come on. Let’s blow this Popsicle stand. Izzy will be here when we get back.” He swung himself off the couch and took Axl’s shoulders. “I promise, he’ll be here, okay? Or he might even come find us. He has this uncanny ability to know where I’m going before I even know. Now let’s go have some fun.”

Without the slightest protest, Axl followed the charming guitarist. It was a song or two later that Izzy noticed that Tracii had even been there, let alone that Axl was gone.

…

 **  
** Izzy pulled his sweat-drenched shirt off his hot body. Shaking out his hair, he wondered why Tracii hadn’t catcalled him. He looked around and realized that both his boyfriend and Axl were nowhere to be seen.

“Where did Axl go?” Izzy asked as he balled up his shirt.

“Hell if I know,” Rob said, twirling his drumsticks as he headed to the kitchen.

“Looks like Tracii is gone too. They probably went out to get some snacks. You know Tracii gets the munchies sometimes after he smokes a lot,” Chris said. Noticing Izzy’s withdrawn face, he approached the half naked guitarist. “Hey.” He clasped a hand on Izzy’s shoulder. “If he’s with Tracii he will be all right. You have nothing to worry about. He’ll take care of him.”

Yet that was just what Izzy was afraid of. Tracii. It all changed when he met Tracii. Now Izzy wondered what would change about Axl or would Axl remain the same. He often wondered who was more stubborn, he or Axl. Izzy’s body felt like ice despite the sweat rolling down his slim torso. The thoughts of Axl opening himself up to Tracii made him cringe. His muscles felt tense and his limbs felt heavy. He was ready to sprint after them and at the same time seemed to not be able to move. His mind was unsettled and his heart was being pulled in too many directions. Nothing made sense except one emotion that he usually never felt. Jealousy. He was jealous. Of whom he wasn’t sure, but he felt it, and it was gnawing at him.

…

 **  
**“Tracii, wait,” Axl called. The guitarist paused mid run. Balancing on one leg, he scrunched his face up in a comical way. Axl smiled and laughed a little but soon became serious. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

“Who needs a swimsuit?” Tracii asked bewildered and tugged down his shorts. Horrified, Axl threw his hands over his eyes. “Hey, don’t worry! I’m not naked. You can look. I promise not to ruin your eyesight.” Axl peeked out between his fingers to see the younger standing in his boxers. “Just like the real thing.” He pointed at Axl. “Now you.”

“I’m not wearing boxers,” he shyly admitted.

“Oh, well come here.” Tracii beckoned him behind his Volkswagen beetle. Axl made his way around the bumper just as Tracii was pulling up his shorts. Axl took a step back in alarm as he saw Tracii hold his boxers out to him. “Put these on over your underwear.”

“What, I…”

“Don’t worry. No one’s around or really gives a care.” Tracii pushed his boxers into Axl’s hands and spread his t-shirt. “I’m not carrying and I’ll protect your privacy. Don’t worry. I don’t peek unless you ask me too.” He winked as he turned around and created a makeshift curtain for Axl to change behind. For some unknown reason Axl did what Tracii asked of him and he was soon standing in Tracii’s boxers and t-shirt.

“You, uh, you can turn around now.”

Tracii peeked over his shoulder before lowering his t-shirt. He smiled and said, “Now the shirt.”

“What? Why?”

“You don’t want all your clothes to be wet. It’ll feel good to have something warm and dry to put on after.” Tracii stepped closer. “Come on. Shirt off.”

Axl let him take the hem and drag it over his head. An unusual noise escaped his lips as he felt Tracii’s knuckles brush his ribs. He froze, but if Tracii heard he gave no indication.

“Much better. We’re going to get you a nice California tan yet,” Tracii announced. He slapped Axl’s bare shoulder. “Last one in buys the winner booze.”

Axl smiled and instantly gave chase. Sand scattered around their feet as they ran and jumped to the water. Axl was smiling as he watched the spry guitarist run. He seemed so innocent and carefree, yet more experienced than Axl was despite him being older. Tracii easily beat him, given the head start and dove straight into a forming wave. Axl slowed to let the wave crash over his shins. He took a couple wobbly steps back from the sheer power of the sea. Tracii surfaced, spitting water from his mouth. The ocean was already up to his waist.

“I win!” Tracii yelled, throwing up his hands in victory. He flopped on his back and started propelling himself backwards. When the waves crashed over him, he rode it out as if he were a surfboard.

“You cheated!” Axl teased as he cut through the surf.

“Nope! I’m just awesome,” Tracii chirped as he continued his backstroke. Suddenly the water fell away and he was dangling in the air. “Hey, wait what…” Axl threw him into a coming wave. He hit the bottom of the ocean floor and blew out bubbles. He jumped upright and flung his wet hair out of his eyes to see a laughing red head next to him. “You’re gonna get it now!”

He dove under a wave and disappeared. Axl yipped and tried to figure out which way to go to escape. Before he could get anywhere he felt hands wrap around his knees and tug. A wave crashed into him causing him to loose balance and fall under the water. He playfully fought with Tracii in the water, each trying to dunk the other. They laughed as they fought and splashed around. Tracii let up to give them both a break and offered to play a more peaceful game of wave jumping. It was simple. Every time a wave came in they jumped it. Sometimes they held hands other times they had to land on one leg. Axl even came up with some difficult maneuvers.

Once the two boys were spent they dragged themselves up to the shore. Tracii dropped to his knees in front of Axl who jumped, “What the…”

“Chill. Just trying to dry you off a bit,” Tracii said, winking at him again.

That wink made Axl blush a little. He turned his head away and cursed himself. Despite the odd feelings, he followed Tracii to a sunny spot and laid down next to the near nude guitarist.

“Fucking love that sun,” Tracii moaned as he stretched and waved his arms in the sand as if he were trying to make a sand angel.

“This is the first time I’ve been in the ocean,” Axl replied.

“You’re shitting me,” Tracii said, propping himself up on his elbows to look at Axl.

“Nope. Indiana is land locked. I wasn’t allowed to go near the river either.”

“Shit. The way Izzy took to the water, you’d swear he was born at sea.”

“He could have been. He lived in Florida briefly with his family before coming to Indiana.”

“No shit?” Tracii shook his head. Axl couldn’t tell if it was a sad or amused gesture. “Man of mystery.”

“He doesn’t talk much about his past, does he?”

“Sometimes. I don’t like prying into people’s lives. They can tell me what they want. With Izzy I can just get him drunk and he’s an open book for me in more ways than one.” Axl bristled, but Tracii didn’t notice. He looked at the boardwalk. “Hey, you hungry?”

“I don’t have any money.”

“I didn’t ask you that,” Tracii said

He gave Axl’s cheek a pinch. The other hid a blush. _What is wrong with me today?_ Axl wondered as he rubbed his cheek.

“Besides, if a certain blonde is working we won’t have to worry about it. We should get you out of the sun before you burn.” He patted Axl’s stomach. “And I’m pretty sure you’re hungry.”

Without another word between them, Tracii led Axl on a tour of boardwalk food, all of which he charmed out of the teen girls and boys working the stands. As they ate Tracii continued to talk non-stop about music, life, pot, freedom, and everything in between. Axl listened intently and found he was mimicking Tracii’s postures as he did so. It surprised him how interested he was in Tracii. He found the younger charming and daring. Tracii was so easy to love, Axl felt like they’d been friends for years and were catching up on lost time.

As they strolled down the boardwalk, after their food settled Axl started talking about music and his future ambitions and dreams. It shocked him how much he was willing to divulge to the other, but Tracii smiled encouragingly and never interrupted. He looked so eager when Axl talked about how he hoped to be a singer in a rock band one day that he even started talking more about his personal life both past and present. Tracii was more than understanding about the pain and happiness of Axl’s Indianan life. It amazed Axl that he wasn’t judging him and it felt like a huge relief to tell someone from the outside about himself and his experiences.

“Hey!” Tracii grabbed his arm suddenly, towing him along faster. “Let’s get ice cream!”

Axl chuckled as he was dragged up to a stall with a cute blonde in a bikini top. She smiled at him and he turned his head to blush. Tracii grinned, sneaking a conspirator look at Axl before turning to the blonde.

“Hi gorgeous. My friend just got into town.”

“Oh,” she said with a bright smile. “Did he?”

“Yep. I told him you had the best ice cream in town and he said, well she definitely has the best smile.”

She blushed and said, “Thank you, um, I mean, we do. I’d be happy to show him around sometime.”

“He’d _love_ that!” Tracii pushed Axl in front of him. “Just write your number on his hand and he’ll definitely give you a call.”

She did that, sneaking coy grins from beneath her lashes as she wrote on Axl’s hand. Axl in return smiled at her, but worried that Tracii would disappear from his side. As much as he thought the girl was attractive his thoughts continued to find their way back to Tracii.

“Call me okay, cutie?” She asked. Leaning forward on the table, she pushed her bronzed chest forward.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Axl replied still feeling a little unsure of himself. Though he did look at her tanned breasts held tight by yellow bikini.

“What flavor do you want? It’s on the house,” she continued with a smile.

“Vanilla is fine,” Axl replied.

“No, man,” Tracii said sternly. “What flavor do _you_ want?”

Axl cocked his head and frowned a little at Tracii. This kid was so adamant about Axl having a voice and his own thoughts, it was hard to pay attention to the blonde he was supposed to be flirting with. “I like strawberry.”

“That’s what _you_ want?” Tracii pushed.

“Yeah. That’s what I want,” Axl said, his voice much stronger than before.

The girl scooped him a towering cone. Handing it to him, she didn’t bother with asking Tracii if he wanted anything. They said their goodbyes and hurried off just as a crowd of kids swarmed the ice cream stand. Axl licked the ice cream, enjoying the lush creaminess and fresh strawberry mixture, but he glanced at Tracii who gazed out at the ocean.

“Hey. Why didn’t you get any?” Axl asked.

“She’s not my type and I could tell she was only interested in you. She’d been staring at you since we went to the boardwalk.”

“Here,” Axl said as he shoved the ice cream in Tracii’s face. “Have some.”

“Nah, I’m g…”

“No, have a lick. Please.”

Tracii looked at Axl wondering why the kid looked so sad that Tracii didn’t get any ice cream. He already got three numbers that he didn’t plan to call and he’d stuffed himself on corn dogs. Axl shoved the cone again in Tracii’s face. Tracii smiled a little and finally leaned forward to took a small lick.

“More than that.” Axl grabbed Tracii’s hand and shoved the cone in it.

With a glance at the cone then to the beach, Tracii took Axl’s hand and said, “Come with me.”

They walked down to the beach hand in hand. In a still sunny spot, Tracii dug a small alcove out of the sand and motioned for Axl to join him. They sat down and proceeded to share the ice cream as they watched the tide come in. Axl would take a bite and hold it out for Tracii to take a lick. Axl even made sure they split the cone when they had eaten far enough down.

The surf never got to close to their safe spot so they could fully enjoy the free sweet treat without fear of getting wet. As the sun dipped below the ocean, cold mixed with the air causing the two friends to huddle closer together for warmth. Axl lazily stroked Tracii’s hair. At some point Tracii had found his way in Axl’s lap and he seemed heavier than earlier. It was then Axl realized he had lulled the smaller boy to sleep. He didn’t push Tracii off, because it felt warm with the sleeping Tracii on his chest. Instead, Axl cuddled him closer not caring what gender he was and continued to watch the colors of the sky and sea change.

…

Izzy slammed the car door when he got back to Chris’s house. He’d searched for his boyfriend and best friend all evening. They were nowhere to be found. A lone shadow stood in the light of the front door. It turned at the sound and the sight made Izzy freeze. There stood Axl with a sleeping Tracii cradled in his arms. The sight was almost too much. Axl’s red hair glowed softly in the house light, making it look like a soft orange halo. His face was free of pain and stress; just smooth alabaster skin that moved with the twitch of his pale red lips. He held Tracii like a precious cherub, close to his chest and securely in his arms. The young rock star had his head buried in the crook of Axl’s arm. One stray hand was on Axl’s chest, limply curled in his lapels.

Izzy didn’t say anything but remained frozen to the spot. He wasn’t sure what to feel. The myriad of emotions blended into sheer numbness. He didn’t even respond when Axl walked toward him. Stopping right in front of him, he placed Tracii in Izzy’s arms.

“Take good care of him,” Axl said, his voice low, barely audible. “Because he takes fucking good care of you.” The last sentence was practically spat at him, although his voice never rose in volume.

Izzy remained silent, but watched Axl step out of the light and into the shadow that Izzy cast over the driveway. Axl got in his car and drove off without even a look back. A soft whine brought Izzy out of his stupor. Looking down, he saw Tracii scrunch his face and rub it against Izzy’s chest. He wasn’t sure if it was a dream or if Tracii was missing Axl. Izzy didn’t know what to think. All he knew was he needed to get his love out of the shadows of the cold night. He carried Tracii into Chris’s house. The blonde remained silent and un-judging as the guitarist walked past him.

…

“Never standing in the shadow of your love,” Axl hummed to himself as he drove through the cloudy night. He was heading back to the apartment he shared with Duff. The radio was off and windows were up in an attempt to keep the cold out. His eyes watered, but instead of crying he rambled lyrics, trying to think of the right sound to accompany him, as he sang, “No No. Never standing. In the shadow of your love.”

…

The tall blonde had practically skipped to the payphone. Popping in a quarter, he dialed the number that was written on his heart. It rang several times, before he heard the adorably shy and slightly raspy voice pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Slash! It’s me, Duff.”

“Oh, uh, hey, man…” The voice sounded off as it faded into static.

“Hey, you okay, dude?” Duff asked. He heard a broken sigh.  
“Well, I got to be honest…”

“About?” Duff asked. The static cleared for a second and he heard nervous mumbling.

“Look, dude, it’s not working out… Steven and I are… so I’m really sorry… and we’re not going anywhere…”

“No,” Duff said stunned. He couldn’t have heard that right.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, man. Oh, uh, Steven’s here… got to go.”

“Slash, you’re breaking up with me? You don’t want to see me anymore?”

“I know… not the best… Later.” The phone line went cold. Duff frozen to his spot, stared straight ahead at nothing. He didn’t hear the monotone voice telling him how to make a call. He couldn’t even begin to process what Slash had said. After what they did on the rooftop… it was… So Slash just wanted to fuck him after all. Duff had hoped it was more than that. He wanted to be with Slash, and he thought the guitarist felt the same way about him.

A gloomy shadow came over him as he dropped the pay phone. Mechanically he walked to the Seven Eleven across the street, not even hearing the people yelling from their cars. He had barely heard a demand from someone needing to use the phone. Picking up a large bottle of vodka from the cooler, he left before the cashier could put down his newspaper and tell him the total.

Surrounded by his new loves, he polished off the liquor and the rest of his cigarettes in his apartment. He vaguely wondered how he had managed to get home. He had no recollection of his movements. He snorted in mild amusement as a tear slid from the corner of his eye. Clamping his eyes shut, he swung the bottle back, letting the stream of alcohol ease his pain.

 

…

 

Izzy tore off to the bathroom. He slammed the door open. Then kicked an empty stall door for good measure. He shattered one of the mirrors just to continue his rage and to help him feel less like he was in middle school. His boyfriend, that fucking flirt had done what he never could with William or Axl. Whoever the fuck he was calling himself now. Tracii, fucking Tracii, had managed to bring Axl out of his shell in a matter of days. He was laughing and boozing it up with some slut on his lap. The tramp didn’t even care about Axl. She only cared about getting laid. And now the pair was going to be in a band together. That was the one thing Izzy had managed to get him to do. Being in a band with Axl even though they sounded like shit was the one special thing he shared only with him. It was special. It meant something to him.

 _Doesn’t mean fuck all to Axl,_ he thought clenching his jaw. He fisted his hair, pulling hard as he tried to figure out if he wanted to scream or cry. The tears wouldn’t come. His insides were being torn up and he couldn’t breath, but he couldn’t let his emotions out. Maybe he needed to break more shit. Tracii didn’t even follow him. The dumb mutt probably didn’t even hear any of the things breaking in here. _Fucking slut._ Izzy threw back his head and growled, “Fucking hell.”

“Shitty night?” Lizzie Grey asked.

“Are you stalking me now?” Izzy spat. His eyes narrowed at the glam rocker causally strolling over to him. “Get the fuck out.”

“I was taking a piss before you came in.” Lizzie replied, indifferent to Izzy’s rage. “And now I nee to wash my hands if you don’t mind.”

He stepped over Izzy and turned on the water. He checked himself out in the mirror despite it being shattered in a thousand pieces. Izzy watched the guitarist, perplexed at how calm he was around him after his outrage. Izzy knew he had been about to hit Def-con four and here Lizzie was acting like nothing was out of the ordinary. Axl hated this side of Izzy and often left him alone, actually avoided him until he thought he had cooled off. _Does this dick have a death wish?_

“Want me to suck you off?” Lizzie asked as he finished drying his hands and preening in the useless mirror.

“Are you serious?” Izzy asked as he stood.

“Of course. We’re accommodating,” Lizzie replied with an enterprising smile. Without another word the guitarist slunk to his knees and undid Izzy’s jeans.

Izzy gasped as he felt Lizzie’s tongue work his head. It was a tease, but enough to jar his addled brain onto one thought. Sex. His eyelids flickered as his head jerked up and down from the tingling sensations shooting up his cock. Lizzie was talented. More talented than Izzy gave him credit for. Grabbing Lizzie’s shoulders tight, he tried to steady himself as the guitarist continued to play with him. Lizzie wasn’t the best he’d had, but right now his teasing tongue was the best distraction. And the ultimate distraction that he needed.

“Having fun there, Liz?” A tempting sexy voice asked from behind.

Izzy whipped around to find a tall dark haired glam rocker lounging in the bathroom door. One hand casually draped above his head while the other was tucked into low-slung leather pants. A sly smirk plastered on his face. If Izzy had been more conscious he would have seen the long fingers slide behind him to draw the chain lock closed. The well-timed vibrations on his dick from Lizzie’s throat helped him miss it. He bit his lip to stifle the whine when Lizzie pulled his mouth away.

“Want to help me out, Nadir?” He rubbed circles over Izzy’s near naked hips as he spoke. “Our poor boy here is feeling a little unloved from two of his boy toys.”

Izzy snapped his head around to glare murderously at Lizzie. “They’re not my…”

Nadir silenced Izzy’s mouth with his. Kissing him long and deep, Nadir swallowed any words that may have formed. He cupped Izzy’s jaw firmly between his thumb and finger, so he couldn’t break away from the kiss easily. Izzy shamelessly moaned against the raunchy lips and opened them wider so Nadir could slide his tongue deeper. The vocalist seamlessly accepted the invitation. Still holding Izzy’s jaw, he snaked his other hand around Izzy’s waist. Dipping beneath the fabric of Izzy’s shirt, he slid it up over his abdomen. Izzy squirmed under the questing hand, but Nadir held all of him firmly in place. Nadir stopped when he reach Izzy’s nipple which he started to tease with gentle motions of his fingertips. The guitarist whimpered into his mouth as he felt the effects of those long fingers travel all the way to his hardening dick.

“See, Iz,” Lizzie cooed with a small laugh. “I told you we could be very accommodating. Very, very, accommodating.”

Flicking his hair out of his way, Lizzie took Izzy into his mouth again. Izzy’s hip shot forward forcing Nadir to let go and slide a hand down to his waist.

“Easy, boy. Don’t want to knock Liz out with your cock until you’ve cum,” Nadir chastised and pressed a kiss to Izzy’s neck. “Now do you?”

Izzy didn’t respond, his mouth was too dry and he just wanted to cum. Instead, he arched back into Nadir’s chest, letting his head fall back over his shoulder. He whined as Nadir sucked harder on his neck. The vocalist had switch to playing with Izzy’s other nipple. Both were hard peaks and Izzy was panting and moaning even harder. Lizzie’s tongue had ceased its teasing and now he was bobbing his head up and down Izzy’s cock. The steady rhythm made Izzy want to fuck his mouth ruthlessly, but Nadir held him fast to his chest. The strength in Nadir’s arms only made him harder and harder to control himself, it turned him on well. Izzy was definitely developing a kink for liking to be held down, and also for two guys to touch him at once.

With a sharp gasp and twist of his hips, Izzy came down Lizzie’s throat. Nadir stroked and petted him through every tremor of pleasure as Lizzie sucked him dry. The guitarist even continued to lick and tease as the aftershocks rumbled throughout Izzy’s body. A hand stroked his damp hair and Nadir shushed him as he trembled in his grip.

Lizzie rose to his feet, leaving Izzy’s jeans still undone and his dick out. He cupped Izzy’s cheeks and kissed his mouth slow and sensually. Izzy reciprocated as much as his foggy brain could muster. The London guitarist smiled at him. “We can do that more often, you know.” He rubbed his thumbs over Izzy’s cheeks, grinning like a sexual deviant.

“I wouldn’t pass up a chance for a second round,” Nadir added, kissing Izzy’s head. He bent down to whisper huskily, “And I’d love to fuck your tight ass any day.”

Izzy laid his head against Lizzie’s unable to find words. The London guitarist held him, but shot a confused look at the vocalist, but was only met with a shrug. Motioning for some paper towels, he and Nadir set about cleaning Izzy up without getting him hard again. They propped him against the sink and made their way to the door. Lizzie turned as Nadir worked the lock, yelling at the other party-goers to shut up and back away from the door.

“Still need some time to think it over?” Lizzie asked.

Izzy raised a middle finger to him.

“Fuck, I really like you, you saucy minx,” Lizzie said with a laugh as he walked out. Nadir winked at him as he licked his lips.

It was then the tears spilled over. Pulling his legs into his chest, Izzy cried. He wished Tracii would come in and make it all better. He wanted his lover to hold him, touch him. But Izzy had gotten stupidly jealous of the attention he was giving Axl who was completely fucking straight. How could he be that stupid? Couldn’t Izzy see his boyfriend was just making his best friend relax and feel comfortable? That’s what Tracii did. He was a natural at it. That also meant that scary straight Axl was getting okay to be around his boyfriend. His boyfriend. He just cheated on Tracii.

“Fuck,” Izzy mumbled.

Seeing the bathroom window, he jumped out.

…

 

Despite growing more accustomed to L.A. Axl found himself back in Lafayette. His sister had just given birth to a little girl and he wanted to come see her. She was indeed adorable, tiny, bald, and eyes that sparkled like little Emeralds. Axl actually wanted to name her Emerald. His sister said no. That was why he found himself back home again, but why he found himself in the same bed he was in a couple of months ago was yet to be determined. All he knew was he couldn’t sleep and he was brave enough to investigate a way of making him sleepy.

Axl stretched his arms above his head, imagining restraints around his wrists. They would be secure but not too tight, and lined with fur so as not to bruise his skin. He imagined the chains rattling as he playfully squirmed and wiggled in half-assed attempts to be free. His lover, the culprit behind this exciting activity would smile down at him adoringly. Axl rolled his hips as he imagined the guitar-roughened hand petting the side of his face. His neck strained as he tried to lean into the touch. A soft whispered moan escaped his lips, as he fantasized the hand trailing down his neck to curl around his throat. He licked his lips as he imagined the playful thumb stroking his jaw before softly pushing between his parted lips. Axl let his head fall back, arching into the touch. His eyes shut tight as he panted. His lover would chuckle softly and caress the full length of his neck with his thumb. Axl breathed deeply as he dreamed of the soft coos that his lover would breath in his ear as he stroked Axl’s body.

He flexed the muscles of his arms and his hips rolled as he imagined visualized the chains restraining. Axl groaned as the sight of his own body being pulled tight. His hips were now rocking at an easy pace. His lover would slide a skinny between Axl’s thighs, readying his lover to be split open and fucked flawlessly. It turned Axl on and he gritted his teeth as he thought about grinding against the worn denim. Soft words of encouragement would drip from his lover’s mouth. They circled his neck as that sinuous mouth trailed over his chest like a necklace.

One moan was a little too loud and Axl quickly hid his face in his arm. Knowing that his sister and her family were right down the hall, he waited and listened. Worry that someone overheard him, he didn’t move. Some minutes went by until he heard an amused chuckle against his ear. He looked up to the ceiling and pretended to be met with those dark happy eyes smiling down at him. A light flick and nibble on his ear lobe brought his attention back to his promiscuous fantasy. Promises of protection and security dripped from his lover’s mouth as he pushed the copper locks aside to press sweet kisses against Axl’s temples. Axl smiled at those sweet words. Those statements could make him harder than any dirty thing someone could say.

Raising his hips, he wrapped his hand around his cock. He still imagined his lover kissing his jaw, trailing them down his abdomen pausing to tease the exposed skin above the waistband of his jeans. Axl bit his lip and shook, trying to quiet a loud moan. It felt too good. He kept his quivering hips still imagining he wouldn’t want to hit his skilled lover with any sudden movements. With his other hand he undid his jeans, imagining his love doing it while whispering teasing sexual promises.

Axl arched as he slid the jeans off his hips, leaving him completely naked from the waist down. The sheets felt cool on his bare ass and imagined his lover cradling his warm body around Axl’s. Axl worked himself faster, but arched at the thought of his lover’s hands tickling along his inner thighs as they worked their way down lower. He stopped touching himself and rolled to his side. Licking his finger, he slid it inside of himself and started working it deeper at his own pace. All the while he imagined his lover pressed tightly against his body. His lover would walk him through the process, easing the pain of the intrusion, and promising paradise on the other side. Axl pushed another finger inside him causing him to throw his head back and moan deeply. He touched his throat with his other hand, imagining it was his lover’s lips kissing away the pain. This way of fucking, making love, felt so good and so right.

His hips bucked as his aching cock was left hanging in the wind. Shutting his eyes and biting his lip, Axl worked himself on his fingers. It wasn’t his fingers. It was his lover’s dick inside of him, searching for that spot to drive him crazy and make him scream. Axl found it, but he imagined his lover hitting the spot, making him thrash and twist all around in the sheets. His chest rose and fell hard as he panted with excitement and primal heat. Clutching his torso to help fantasize his lover holding him close, he drew nearer to the edge. His lover whispered, _I love you, Axl,_ before sending him flying high over the edge into a heaven of pure white light bliss.

…

Axl’s eyes fluttered open. His arm hit the cold side of the mattress and he whimpered audibly. His lover wasn’t there beside him like he dreamed. His fantasy felt so real he could practically taste it, but it was just an elaborate dream in the end. He wanted and was ready to make it a reality. To do that, he needed to move. The sheets scratched his ankles as he sat up.

 _Oops,_ he thought. Then he looked at the clock. The red digits displayed 3:07 AM. _I wonder if my sister minds if I do laundry at this time of morning._ Axl stood and pulled the sheets from the bed. Forgetting he was naked he made his way down to the laundry room. A wide smile was plastered to his face. He knew what he had to do and where he had to be after he made the bed.

…

 **  
**It felt great being in a band again, even if they sounded much more metal than what fit Slash’s taste. He got tired of prostituting himself on the Strip. It took a lot out of his mental stamina to network with people on the street. He liked having a band to back him. He liked having a buddy to work with and talk to people. He couldn’t be drunk all the time to ease his tension, although he tried. Now he could talk to other high profile musicians from the hottest L.A. club band, Black Sheep. He was meeting people through the guys and starting to carve out a name for himself.

Willie had sought him out and practically treated him like a king once he joined his band. Some times after practice, he’d educate Slash on the music industry and things to watch out for. He talked to him non-stop about music and style. Willie had a lot of that and was flashy but with substance. The bass player, Paul Carmen, turned Slash on to Marshall Amps, advising him to get rid of his Rissons Amps.

The only thing that bothered Slash was that they didn’t practice more. It was hit and miss. He wondered if it was because Willie was too busy with the crowd of women he’d bring to rehearsals. They were very attractive women. Slash had been tempted and even propositioned a couple of times. Despite Willie’s nod of approval, he declined their advances. Somehow it never felt right going with one of them. It had nothing to do with Willie, but instead a weird phone call from Duff.

He loved Duff. He knew that now. He let Duff fuck him instead of just blowing him, and then he heard those horrible words, _breaking up._ He couldn’t believe Duff was the type to break up over the phone, let alone use him like that. It broke Slash’s heart, but also made him angry. So angry he couldn’t even get off with girls. He never felt as comfortable picking up boys like Tracii, so he stayed away from those places. He spent most days in his room, trying to write the angriest darkest riff to help ease the pain. Most days he felt so miserable he couldn’t even pick up his guitar. The conversation played over and over in his head. He had told Duff about how he and Steven couldn’t work together on Road Crew anymore. Then Steven came over with some news and saved Slash from either crying or screaming at Duff. The words Duff said still stung.

So whenever Willie called rehearsal, Slash was there before they could hang up the phone. Slash still felt it was an honor to be chosen for this band. Willie had a reputation for getting only the most top shredders of the day. That gave a boost to his confidence and ego. Still, he had too much time on his hands and too many thoughts about the blonde. If only Tracii wasn’t with Izzy he could give that cutie a call like he did from time to time when they were both single. Slash knew Izzy was the jealous crazy type and would personally castrate him. Again he kept his distance and drifted to the shadows of his room, missing his love.

 

…

Axl trudged along the sidewalk at a pace that slowed, as he drew closer to his destination. He cursed himself for dragging his feet. He wasn’t sure why when he’d been so set on his decision just a night ago. In all his years of living, he’d never been surer of himself in his decision. Yet fear was slowly finding it’s way inside his brain. The emotion was slowly taking over, eating at the last of his resolve. Just like so many times before it was trying to hold him back. He hated the feeling and wanted to be done with it for good. Pushing forward, he told himself that with every step he took he was beating it. Axl was winning where William had lost time and time again.

Finally reaching the porch, he hesitated at the last step. After this step, there would be no going back. That was what he wanted though, a clean slate and control over his life. Until this moment, he’d never had control over any part of his life except his mind. Now he could act out his control. He could chart his own course and take the reins on this new chapter of his life. He might fail. Probably would, but he had to at least try, right?

Everything from this point would be his decision. The first would be starting with him. He gave himself over to his body. Without thinking, he crossed the porch and rang the doorbell. His breath caught in his throat and his heart pounded when he realized what he had done. The shuffle of footsteps could be heard from within. A spare thought told him to run as he heard the sound grow louder. He silenced the worry in his mind, frowning deeply, agitated by his own nerves.

The noirette opened the door, and took a step back. His eyes were wide and blinked slowly at Axl who looked rightfully pissed. The red head briefly wondered why he seemed uneasy around him. He’d never acted like this before with him. Pushing the thought away he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin defiantly.

“I want you to play guitar in my band,” Axl said, his voice more confident than his internal self felt. “I’m calling it AXL.”

The other only nodded in agreement, licking his lips.

…


End file.
